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Copyright N° _L 

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COPYRIGHT DEPOSIT. 





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n * » 












MY BOOK HOUSE 

THROUGH FAIRY HALLS 


THROUGH FAIRY HALLS 


L O! here are airy halls and fairy halls 

Where life and joy and all true splendour reign, 
And be it shining creature with bright wings, 

Or but a little man or queer old dame, 

Or talking beast who doth appear to guide, 

Pray let him lead you hither to these halls. 


THROUGH FAIRY HALLS 

of AAY BGOKHOUSE 

Edited by 

Olive Beaupre Miller 



CHICAGO 


Cyf BQOKHOUSE f or CHILDREN 

PUBLISHERS 


Editorial Acknowledgments 

+ * + 


The Editor is indebted to Chester H. Lawrence for his capable 
direction of the art work of MY BOOK HOUSE. Also the following 
artists who have contributed: 


Alice Beard 
N. C. Wyeth 
Tony Sarg 
Milo Winter 
Donn P. Crane 
Glen Ketchum 

Maginel Wright Enright 
Katherine Sturges Dodge 
Malcolm D. Charleson 
Maud and Miska Petersham 


Bert R. Elliott 
Hilda Hanway 
Anna Laufer 
Garada G. Riley 
Fay Turpin 
Ila McAfee 


The Publishers and the Editor wish to express their thanks to all 
the publishing houses which have so generously permitted the reprinting 
of copyrighted stories and poems. This copyrighted material is 
acknowledged on the pages where it appears. 

+ * * 

Copyright, 1920 

By OLIVE BEAUPRE MILLER 
All Rights Reserved 


OCT 21 1920 


C^CI. A597969 



CONTE 

NTS 


The Assembling of the Fays 

PAGE 

. Joseph Rodman Drake 

11 

Prince Fairyfoot .... 

Frances Browne 

12 

Lullaby for Titania 

William Shakespeare 

25 

The Sleeping Beauty . 

German 

26 

May '. 


31 

Mr. Moon 

. Bliss Carman 

32 

Prince Harweda . 

. Elizabeth Harrison 

34 

Hie Away 

Sir Walter Scott 

44 

Hansel and Grethel 

German 

45 

Princess on the Glass Hill (Norse) 

. Sir George Webb Dasent 

52 

The Pert Fire Engine . 

. . . Gelett Burgess 

64 

The Marvelous Pot (Danish) . 

. J. Christian Bay 

69 

Daniel O’Rourke (Irish) 

T. Crofton Croker 

74 

Her Dairy 

Peter Newell 

81 

The Wise Men of Gotham . 

Old English Tale 

82 

Wild Flowers 

Peter Newell 

85 

Where Sarah Jane’s Doll Went. Mary E. Wilkins Freeman 

86 

In the Lane 

Madison Cawein 

95 

Kids 

. Witter Bynner 

96 

A Credit to the School 

. Dikken Zwilgmeyer 

98 

( Translated by Emilie Poulsson ) 


A Boy’s Song 

James Hogg 

105 

The Luck Boy of Toy Valley . 

. Katherine D. Cather 106 


C O N T 


ENTS 

The Duty That Was Not Paid . . Katherine D. Cather 112 

The Life of a Beaver . . . William Davenport Hulbert 117 

Robert of Lincoln .... William Cullen Bryant 122 
The Music Loving Bears .... Joaquin Miller 123 
The Dance of the Forest People (from The 

Arkansaw Bear) Albert Bigelow Paine 126 

Little Nell and Mrs. Jarley’s Wax Works Charles Dickens 130 
The Shaking of the Pear Tree . Dinah M. Mulock Craik 142 

The Twelve Months Bohemian 145 

The Three Wishes Spanish 154 

White Horses Hamish Hendry 158 

Wt t y the Sea is Salt (Norse) . Gudrun Thorne-Thomsen 159 

Thi Sea Shell Amy Lowell 164 

The Strong Boy ....... Canadian 165 

The Ogre that Played Jackstraws David Starr Jordan 174 
A Song from The Flower of Old Japan . . Alfred Noyes 178 

Princess Moonbeam Japanese 179 

The Village Fair Nicholas Nekrassov 182 

The Good Comrades of the Flying Ship . Russian 184 
Pigling (the Korean Cindrella) . . . William E . Griffis 191 

A Tragic Tale Alfred Van Chamisso 196 

( Transl . by William Makepeace Thackeray) 

Aruman, A Hero of Java Javanese 197 

Kra A Malayan Monkey Song 205 

The Fisherman Who Caught the Sun . . . Hawaiian 206 

A Tropical Morning at Sea . . Edward Rowland Sill 209 

My House in Nicaragua . . . . Salomon de la Selva 210 

How Night Came (Brazilian) . . . Elsie Spicer Eels 211 


O N 


N 


Twilight 

The Man Who Loved Hai Quai . 

The Adventures of Yehl . 

Afar in the Desert 
The Lost Spear .... 

Fairy Forests .... 

How Brer Rabbit Met Brer Tar-Baby 
Melilot (English) . 

The Fog 

The Ragged Pedlar (Jewish) 

The Pedlar's Song 
David and Goliath . 

Rhodopis (The First Cinderella Story) 

A Day 

Phaeton . . . . . 

The Cloud .... 

The Golden Touch 
The Humming Bird . 

The Acorn and the Pumpkin 
The Golden Bird . 

Sleigh Bells (from The Bells) 

The Snow Queen 
Prince Cherry 
(French) 



Madison Cawein 215 
American Indian 216 
. Alaskan 220 
Thomas Pringle 226 
. South African 228 
. Alfred Noyes 236 
American Negro 237 
. Henry Morley 242 
Carl Sandburg 251 
. Aunt Naomi 252 
William Shakespeare 256 h 
. The Bible 257^ 

. Egyptian 262 
Emily Dickinson 267 
Greek Myth 268 
Percy Bysshe Shelley 273 
Nathaniel Hawthorne 274 
Edwin Markham 289 
La Fontaine 290 
German 292 
Edgar Allen Poe 302 
Hans Christian Andersen 303 
Madame La Prin- 
cesse de Beaumont 326 


CONTENTS 


Gigi and the Magic Ring (Italian) . . Anne Macdonell 337 

The Month of March (Italian) . . . Georgene Faulkner 348 

March William Cullen Bryant 353 

Columbine and Her Playfellows of the Italian 

Pantomime 354 

The Six Swans German 363 

The Two Bad Bargains Servian 369 


How the Waterfall Came to the Thirsting 


Mountain 

Roumanian 

376 

The Cataract of Lodore .... 

Robert Southey 

383 

Through A Mousehole .... 

Czech 

384 

April 

John Galsworthy 

394 

Tudur ap Einion 

Welsh 

395 

East O’ the Sun and West O’ the Moon 

. . Norse 

399 


The Boy and the Elf (from The Wonderful Adventures of 

Nils) Selma Lagerlof 408 

Little Diamond and the North Wind . George MacDonald 422 
The Renowned and World-Famous Adventures of 
Punch and Judy 438 







































































































V 






































' 











































♦ 






‘ 




. 

■ 






















































































t 






THROUGH FAIRY HALLS 



THE ASSEMBLING OF THE FAYS 
They come from beds of lichen green, 

They creep from the mullein’s velvet screen; 

Some on the backs of beetles fly 
From the silver tops of moon-touched trees, 

Where they swung in their cobweb hammocks high, 
And rocked about in the evening breeze; 

And now they throng the moonlight glade, 

Above — below — on every side, 

Their little minim forms arrayed, 

In the tricksy pomp of fairy pride. 

— Joseph Rodman Drake 


II 



MY BOOK HOUSE 


THE STORY OF FAIRYFOOT* 

Frances Browne 

NCE upon a time there stood far away in the west 
country a town called Stumpinghame. It contained 
seven windmills, a royal palace, a market place, and 
a prison, with every other convenience befitting the 
capital of a kingdom. A capital city was Stumpinghame, and its 
inhabitants thought it the only one in the world. It stood in the 
midst of a great plain, which for three leagues round its walls 
was covered with com, flax and orchards. Beyond that lay a 
great circle of pasture land, seven leagues in breadth, and it 
was bounded on all sides by a forest so thick and old that no 
man in Stumpinghame knew its extent; and the opinion of the 
learned was, that it reached to the end of the world. 

There were strong reasons for this opinion. First, that for- 
est was known to be inhabited time out of mind by the fairies, 
and no hunter cared to go beyond its borders— so the west coun- 
try believed it to be solidly full of old trees to the heart. Sec- 
ondly, the people of Stumpinghame were no travellers — man, 
woman, and child had feet so large and heavy that it was by 
no means convenient to carry them far. Whether it was the 
nature of the place or the people, I cannot tell, but great feet 
had been the fashion there time immemorial, and the higher 
the family the larger were they. It was, therefore, the aim of 
everybody above the degree of shepherds, and such-like rustics, 
to swell out and enlarge their feet by way of gentility; and so 
successful were they in these undertakings that, on a pinch, 
respectable people’s slippers would have served for panniers. 

Stumpinghame had a king of its own, and his name was Stiff- 
step; his family was very ancient and large-footed. His subjects 
called him Lord of the World, and he made a speech to them 
every year concerning the grandeur of his mighty empire. His 

♦Taken from Granny’s Wonderful Chair. 

12 



THROUGH FAIRY HALLS 

queen, Hammerheel, was the greatest beauty in Stumping- 
hame. Her majesty’s shoe was not much less than a fishing- 
boat; their six children promised to be quite as handsome, and 
all went well with them till the birth of their seventh son. 

For a long time nobody about the palace could understand 
what was the matter — the ladies-in-waiting looked so astonished, 
and the king so vexed; but at last it was whispered through the 
city that the queen’s seventh child had been bom with such 
miserably small feet that they resembled nothing ever seen or 
heard of in Stumpinghame, except the feet of the fairies. 

The chronicles furnished no example of such an affliction 
ever before happening in the royal family. The common people 
thought it portended some great calamity to the city the learned 
men began to write books about it; and all the relations of the 
king and queen assembled at the palace to mourn with them 
over their singular misfortune. The whole court and most of 
the citizens helped in this mourning, but when it had lasted 
seven days they all found out it was of no use. So to cheer up 
the queen’s spirits, the young prince was sent privately out to 
the pasture lands, to be nursed among the shepherds. 

The chief man there was called Fleecefold, and his wife’s 
name was Rough Ruddy. They lived in a snug cottage with 
their son, Blackthorn, and their daughter, Brownberry, and were 
thought great people, because they kept the king’s sheep. More- 
over, Fleecefold’s family were known to be ancient; and Rough 
Ruddy boasted that she had the largest feet in all the pastures. 
The shepherds held them in high respect, and it grew still higher 
when the news spread that the king’s seventh son had been sent 
to their cottage. People came from all quarters to see the 
young prince, and great were the lamentations over his misfor- 
tune in having such small feet. 

The king and queen had given him fourteen names, begin- 


13 


MY BOOK HOUSE 



ning with Augustus — such being the fashion in that royal fam- 
ily; but the honest country people could not remember so many; 
besides, his feet were the most remarkable thing about the child, 
so with one accord they called him Fairy foot and the boy never 
had another name throughout the pastures. At court it was not 
thought polite to speak of him at all. They did not keep his 
birthday, and he was never sent for at Christmas, because the 
queen and her ladies could not bear the sight. Once a year 
the undermost scullion was sent to see how he did, with a bundle 
of his next brother’s cast-off clothes; and, as the king grew old 
and cross, it was said he had thoughts of disowning him. 

So Fairyfoot grew in Fleecefold’s cottage. Perhaps the 
country air made him fair and rosy — for all agreed that he would 
have been a handsome boy but for his small feet, with which 
nevertheless he learned to walk, and in time to run and to jump, 
thereby amazing everybody, for such doings were not known 
among the children of Stumpinghame. The news of court, 
however, travelled to the shepherds, and Fairyfoot was despised 
among them. The old people thought him unlucky; the chil- 
dren refused to play with him. Fleecefold was ashamed to 
have him in his cottage, but he durst not disobey the king’s 
orders. Moreover, Blackthorn wore most of the clothes brought 
by the scullion. At last, Rough Ruddy found out that the 
sight of such horrid jumping would make her children vulgar; 
and, as soon as he was old enough, she sent Fairyfoot every day 
to watch some sheep on a wild, weedy pasture, hard by the forest. 

Poor Fairyfoot was often lonely and sorrowful; many a time 
he wished his feet would grow larger, and all the comfort he 


14 


THROUGH FAIRY HALLS 

had was running and jumping b!y himself in the wild pasture, 
and thinking that none of the shepherds' children could do the 
like, for all their pride of their great feet. 

Tired of this sport, he was lying in the shadow of a mossy 
rock one warm summer's noon, with the sheep feeding around, 
when a robin, pursued by a great hawk, flew into the old velvet 
cap which lay on the ground beside him. Fairyfoot covered 
it up, and the hawk, frightened by his shout, flew away. 

“Now you may go, poor robin!" he said, opening the cap; 
but instead of the bird, out sprang a little man dressed in russet 
brown, and looking as if he were an hundred years old. Fairy- 
foot could not speak for astonishment, but the little man said: 

“Thank you for your shelter, and be sure I will do as much 
for you. Call on me if you are ever in trouble; my name is 
Robin Goodfellow;" and darting off, he was out of sight in an 



15 



MY BOOK 


HOUSE 


instant. For days the boy wondered who that little man could 
be, but he told nobody, for the little man’s feet were as small 
as his own, and it was clear he would be no favorite in Stump- 
inghame. Fairyfoot kept the story to himself, and at last mid- 
summer came. That evening was a feast among the shep- 
herds. There were bonfires on the hills, and fun in the villages. 
But Fairyfoot sat alone beside his sheepfold, for the children 
of his village had refused to let him dance with them about the 
bonfire. He had never felt so lonely in all his life, and remember- 
ing the little man, he plucked up spirit, and cried: 

“Ho! Robin Goodfellow!” 

“Here I am,” said a shrill voice at his elbow; and there stood 
the little man himself. 

“I am very lonely, and no one will play with me, because 
my feet are not large enough,” said Fairyfoot. 

“Come then and play with us,” said the little man. “We 
lead the merriest lives in the world, and care for nobody’s feet; 
but all companies have their own manners, and there are two 
things you must mind among us: first, do as you see the rest 
doing; and secondly, never speak of anything you may hear 
or see, for we and the people of this country have had no friend- 
ship ever since large feet came in fashion.” 

“I will do that, and anything more you like,” said Fairy- 
foot; and the little man, taking his hand, led him over the pas- 
ture into the forest, and along a mossy path among old trees 
wreathed with ivy (he never knew how far), till they heard the 
sound of music, and came upon a meadow where the moon shone 
as bright as day, and all the flowers of the year — snowdrops, 
violets, primroses, and cowslips — bloomed together in the thick 
grass. There were a crowd of little men and women, some clad 
in russet colour, but far more in green, dancing round a little 
well as clear as crystal. And under great rose-trees which grew 


THROUGH FAIRY HALLS 



here and there in the meadow, companies were sitting round low 
tables covered with cups of milk, dishes of honey, and carved 
wooden flagons filled with clear red wine. The little man led 
Fairyfoot up to the nearest table, handed him one of the flagons, 
and said, “Drink to the good company!” 

Then the boy forgot all his troubles — how Blackthorn and 
Brownberry wore his clothes, how Rough Ruddy sent him to keep 
the sickly sheep, and the children would not dance with him; in 
short, he forgot the whole misfortune of his feet, and it seemed 
to his mind that he was a king’s son, and all was well with him. 
All the little people about the well cried: 

“Welcome! welcome!” and every one said: “Come and dance 
with me!” So Fairyfoot was as happy as a prince, and drank 
milk and ate honey till the moon was low in the sky, and then 
the little man took him by the hand, and never stopped nor 
stayed till he was at his own bed of straw in the cottage comer. 

Next morning Fairyfoot was not tired for all his dancing. 
Nobody in the cottage had missed him, and he went out with 
the sheep as usual; but every night all that summer, when the 
shepherds were safe in bed, the little man came and took him 
away to dance in the forest. Now he did not care to play with 


17 



MY BOOK HOUSE 

the shepherds’ children, nor grieve that his father and mother 
had forgotten him, but watched the sheep all day singing to 
himself or plaiting rushes; and when the sun went down, Fairy- 
foot s heart rejoiced at thought of meeting that merry company. 

The wonder was that he was never tired nor sleepy, as people 
are apt to be who dance all night; but before the summer was 
ended Fairy foot found out the reason. One night, when the 
moon was full, and the last of the ripe com rustling in the fields, 
Robin Goodfellow came for him as usual, and away they went 
to the flowery green. The fun there was high, and Robin was 
in haste. So he only pointed to the carved cup from which 
Fairyfoot every night drank. 

I am not thirsty, and there is no use losing time,” thought 
the boy to himself, and he joined the dance; but never in all 
his life did Fairyfoot find such hard work as to keep pace with 
the company. Their feet seemed to move like lightning; the 
swallows did not fly so fast or turn so quickly. Fairyfoot did 
his best, for he never gave in easily, but at length, his breath 
and strength being spent, the boy was glad to steal away, and 
sit down behind a mossy oak, where his eyes closed for very 
weariness. When he awoke the dance was nearly over, but two 
little ladies clad in green talked close beside him. 

What a beautiful boy! said one of them. “He is worthy 
to be a king’s son. Only see what handsome feet he has!” 
t Yes, said the other, with a laugh that sounded spiteful; 
‘they are just like the feet Princess Maybloom had before she 
washed them in the Growing Well. Her father has sent far 
and wide throughout the whole country searching for a doctor 
to make them small again, but nothing in this world can do it 
except the water of the Fair Fountain, and none but I and the 
nightingales know where it is.” 

One would not care to let the like be known,” said the first 
18 


THROUGH FAIRY HALLS 


little lady, “there would come such crowds of these great coarse 
creatures of mankind, nobody would have peace for leagues 
round. But you will surely send word to the sweet princess! 
— she was so kind to our birds and butterflies, and danced so 
like one of ourselves!” 

“Not I, indeed!” said the spiteful fairy. “Her father cut 
down the cedar which I loved best in the whole forest, and made 
a chest of it to hold his money in; besides, I never liked the 
princess — everybody praised her so.” 

When they were gone, Fairy foot could sleep no more with 
astonishment. He did not wonder at the fairies admiring his 
feet, because their own were much the same; but it amazed him 
that Princess Maybloom’s father should be troubled at hers 
growing large. Moreover, he wished to see that same princess 
and her country, since there were really other places in the world 
than Stumpinghame. 

All the next day Fairyfoot was so weary that in the after- 
noon he fell asleep, with his head on a clump of rushes. It was 
seldom that any one thought of looking after him and the sheep; 
but it so happened that towards evening the old shepherd, 
Fleecefold, thought he would see how things went on in the 
pastures. The shepherd had a bad temper and a slick staff, 
and no sooner did he catch sight of Fairyfoot sleeping, and his 
flock straying away, than shouting all the ill names he could 
remember, in a voice which woke up the boy, he ran after him 
as fast as his great feet would allow; while Fairyfoot, seeing no 
other shelter from his fury, fled into the forest, and never stopped 
nor stayed till he reached the banks of a little stream. 

Thinking it might lead him to the fairies’ dancing-ground, 
he followed that stream for many an hour, but it wound away 
into the heart of the forest, flowing through dells, falling over 
mossy rocks, and at last leading Fairyfoot, when he was tired 


19 


my book house 

and the night had fallen, to a grove of great rose-trees, with 
the moon shining on it as bright as day, and thousands of night- 
ingales singing in the branches. In the midst of that grove 
was a clear spring, bordered with banks of lilies, and Fairyfoot 
sat down by it to rest himself and listen. The singing was so 
sweet he could have listened for ever, but as he sat the night- 
ingales left off their songs, and began to talk together in the 
silence of the night: 

What boy is that, ’ said one on a branch above him, “who 
sits so lonely by the Fair Fountain? He cannot have come 
from Stumpinghame with such small and handsome feet.” 

No, 1 11 warrant you,” said another, “he has come from the 
west country. How in the world did he find the way?” 

“How simple you are!” said a third nightingale. “What 
had he to do but follow the ground-ivy which grows over height 
and hollow, bank and bush, from the lowest gate of the king’s 
kitchen-garden to the root of this rose-tree? He looks a wise 
boy, and I hope he will keep the secret, or we shall have all the 
west country here, dabbling in our fountain, and leaving us no 
rest to either talk or sing.” 

Fairyfoot sat in great astonishment at this discourse, but 
by and by, when the talk ceased and the songs began, he thought 
it might be as well for him to follow the ground-ivy, and see 
the Princess Maybloom, not to speak of getting rid of Rough 
Ruddy, the sickly sheep, and the crusty old shepherd. It was 
a long journey; but he went on, eating wild berries by day, sleep- 
ing in the hollows of old trees by night, and never losing sight 
of the ground-ivy, which led him over height and hollow, bank 
and bush, out of the forest, and along a noble high road, with 
fields and villages on every side, to a great city, and a low old- 
fashioned gate of the king’s kitchen-garden, which was thought 
too mean for scullions, and had not been opened for seven years. 


20 


through fairy halls 



There was no use knocking — the gate was overgrown with 
tall weeds and moss; so, being an active boy, he climbed over, 
and walked through the garden, till a little fawn came frisk- 
ing by, and he heard a soft voice saying sorrowfully: 

“Come back, come back, my fawn! I cannot run and play 
with you now, my feet have grown so heavy;” and looking round 
he saw the loveliest young princess in the world, dressed in snow- 
white, and wearing a wreath of roses on her golden hair; but 
walking slowly, as the great people did in Stumpinghame, for 
her feet were as large as the best of them. 

After her came six young ladies, dressed in white and walk- 
ing slowly, for they could not go before the princess; but Fairy- 
foot was amazed to see that their feet were as small as his own. 
At once he guessed that this must be the Princes® Maybloom, 
and made her an humble bow, saying: 

“Royal princess, I have heard of your trouble because your 
feet have grown large; in my country that’s all the fashion. For 


21 


MY BOOK HOUSE 


seven years past I have been wondering what would make mine 
grow, to no purpose; but I know of a certain fountain that will 
make yours smaller and finer than ever they were, if the king, 
your father, gives you leave to come with me, accompanied by 
two of your maids that are the least given to talking, and the 
most prudent officer in all his household; for it would offend the 
fairies and the nightingales to make that fountain known.” 

When the princess heard that, she danced for joy in spite 
of her large feet, and she and her six maids brought Fairyfoot 
before the king and queen, where they sat in their palace hall, 
with all the courtiers paying their morning compliments. The 
lords were very much astonished to see a ragged, bare-footed 
boy brought in among them, and the ladies thought Princess 
Maybloom must have gone mad; but Fairyfoot, making an 
humble reverence, told his message to the king and queen, and 
offered to set out with the princess that very day. At first the 
king would not believe that there could be any use in his offer, 
because so many great physicians had failed to give any relief. 
The courtiers laughed Fairyfoot to scorn, and the pages wanted 
to turn him out for an impudent impostor, but the queen, being 
a prudent woman, said: 

“I pray your majesty to notice what fine feet this boy has. 
There may be some truth in his story. For the sake of our only 
daughter, I will choose two maids who talk the least of all our 
train, and my chamberlain, who is the most discreet officer in 
our household. Let them go with the princess; who knows 
but our sorrow may be lessened?” 

After some persuasion the king consented, though all his 
councillors advised the contrary. So the two silent maids, the 
discreet chamberlain, and her fawn, which would not stay behind, 
were sent with Princess Maybloom, and they all set out after 
dinner. Fairyfoot had hard work guiding them along the track 


22 


through fairy halls 

of the ground-ivy. The maids and the chamberlain did not 
like the brambles and rough roots of the forest — they thought 
it hard to eat berries and sleep in hollow trees; but the prin- 
cess went on with good courage, and at last they reached the 
grove of rose-trees, and the spring bordered with lilies. 

The chamberlain washed — and though his hair had been 
grey, and his face wrinkled, the young courtiers envied his beauty 
for years after. The maids washed— and from that day they 
were esteemed the fairest in all the palace. Lastly, the princess 
washed also— it could make her no fairer, but the moment her 
feet touched the water they grew less, and when she had washed 
and dried them three times, they were as small and finely shaped 
as Fairyfoot’s own. There was great joy among them, but 
the boy said sorrowfully: 

Oh! if there had been a well in the world to make my feet 
large, my father and mother would not have cast me off, nor 
sent me to live among the shepherds.” 

“Cheer up your heart,” said the Princess Maybloom; “if 
you want large feet, there is a well in this forest that will do it. 
Last summer time, I came with my father and his foresters to 
see a great cedar cut down, of which he meant to make a money 
chest. While they were busy with the cedar, I saw a bramble 
branch covered with berries. Some were ripe and some were 
green, but it was the longest bramble that ever grew; for the 
sake of the berries, I went on and on to its root, which grew 
hard by a muddy-looking well, with banks of dark green moss, 
in the deepest part of the forest. The day was warm and dry,’ 
so I took off my scarlet shoes, and washed my feet in the well; 
but as I washed they grew larger every minute, and nothing 
could ever make them less again. I have seen the bramble this 
day; it is not far off, and as you have shown me the Fair Foun- 
tain, I will show you the Growing Well.” 


23 


MY BOOK HOUSE 


Up rose Fairy foot and Princess Maybloom, and went together 
till they found the bramble, and came to where its root grew, 
hard by the muddy-looking well, with banks of dark green moss, 
in the deepest dell of the forest. ’Fairyfoot sat down to wash, 
but at that minute he heard a sound of music, and knew it was 
the fairies going to their dancing-ground. 

“If my feet grow large,” said the boy to himself, “how shall 
I dance with them?” So, rising quickly, he took the Princess 
Maybloom by the hand. The fawn followed them; the maids 
and the chamberlain followed it, and all followed the music 
through the forest. At last they came to the flowery green. 
Robin Goodfellow welcomed the company for Fairyfoot’s sake, 
and they danced there from sunset till the grey morning, and 
nobody was tired. But before the lark sang, Robin Goodfellow 
took them all safe home, as he used to take Fairyfoot. 

There was great joy that day in the palace because Princess 
Maybloom’s feet were made small again. The king gave Fairy- 
foot all manner of fine clothes and rich jewels; and when they 
heard this wonderful story, he and the queen asked him to live 
with them and be their son. In process of time Fairyfoot and 
Princess Maybloom were married, and still live happily. When 
they go to visit at Stumpinghame, they always wash their feet 


in the Growing Well, 
might think them a 
they come back, they 
Fair Fountain; and 
nightingales are great 
as the maids and the 
they have told nobody 
peace and quiet yet in 



lest the royal family 
disgrace, but when 
make haste to the 
the fairies and the 
friends to them, as well 
chamberlain, because 
about it, and there is 
the grove of rosetrees. 


24 


THROUGH FAIRY HALLS 




LULLABY FOR TITANIA 
William Shakespeare 

You spotted snakes with double tongue, 
Thorny hedgehogs, be not seen; 

Newts and blind-worms, do no wrong; 
Come not near our fairy queen. 

Philomel, with melody, 

Sing in our sweet lullaby; 

Lulla, lulla, lullaby; lulla, lulla, lullaby! 
Never harm, 

Nor spell nor charm, 

Come our lovely lady nigh; 

So, good-night, with lullaby. 

Weaving spiders, come not here; 

Hence, you long-legg’d spinners, hence! 
Beetles black, approach not near; 

Worm nor snail, do not offence. 

Philomel, with melody, 

Sing in our sweet lullaby; 

Lulla, lulla, lullaby; lulla, lulla, lullaby! 
Never harm, 

Nor spell nor charm, 

Come our lovely lady nigh; 

So, good-night, with lullaby. 




% 



ItlO* 


25 


MY BOOK HOUSE 

THE SLEEPING BEAUTY 

A long time ago there lived a King and Queen who said every 
day, Ah, if only we had a child!” but for a long time they had 
none. So, when a beautiful little daughter came to them, the 
King could scarcely contain himself for joy and ordered a great 
feast to celebrate the event. He invited not only his kindred, 
friends and acquaintances, but also the fairies who give gifts to 
children. There were thirteen of these in his kingdom, but as 
he had only twelve golden plates, one of them was not invited. 

The feast was held with all manner of splendor, and when it 
came to an end the fairies bestowed their gifts on the baby. One 
gave her virtue, another good nature, a third wisdom, a fourth 
beauty, and so on with everything that is good. But when 
eleven had said their say, suddenly the thirteenth who had not 
been invited presented herself at the door. She was an ugly old 
woman whose gifts to children were always evil, so the father of 
little Briar-rose had done well to find no place for her at the 
feast. But now everyone fell back in a fright before her, so 
she forced her way into the hall in a fury to think she had not 
been invited, and went straight up to the baby’s cradle. 

“This is my gift to the King’s daughter,” she cried. “In 
her fifteenth year she shall prick her finger with a spindle and 
die!” With these spiteful words, she tossed her head and stormed 
out of the hall. 

The King was left in a panic; the Queen was left in a panic 
and all the guests were struck dumb with terror. But just at 
that moment, the twelfth fairy stepped forth, for she had not 
yet made her promise for the child. 

“Nay,” she said gently, “the Princess shall not die, but fall 
into a deep sleep.” 

Now the King was so anxious to guard his dear child from 
misfortune that he thought the best way would be to remove all 

26 


through fairy halls 

spindles out of his kingdom, and then she would never be able to 
prick her finger. So he gave orders the very next day that every 
spindle should be burned to ashes and never another one made 
or used throughout the length and breadth of the land. 

Meantime, the gifts of the fairies were plenteously fulfilled in 
tne young girl, for she was so beautiful, modest and kind that 
all who saw her, loved her. But it happened on the very day 
when she was fifteen years old, that the King and Queen, being 
now quite at rest about their daughter, since they thought they 
had put all danger out of her reach, went away from home, leaving 
Bnar-rose all alone. No sooner were they gone, than the Princess 
began to feel a great desire to go poking about the palace into 
all the strange places she had never visited before. So she went 
into all sorts of great echoing halls and queer little chambers, 
and at last she came to an old stone tower, with a narrow stair 
that went winding upward. Up the rickety steps she started. 
She climbed and she climbed and at last she came to a little old 
door with a queer old rusty key in the lock. When she turned 
the key, the door sprang open. There in a dusty little room, sat 
a little old woman in gray, and she was working busily. 

“Good-day, good dame,” said Briar-rose, “what are vou 
doing?” 

“I am spinning,” said the woman, nodding her head. And 
she drew out a thread of flax, twisting it deftly between her 
fingers. 

And what is that little thing you send twirling around so 
merrily?” 

“A spindle! A spindle!” 

“Ah!” cried little Briar-rose, “I have never seen anything 
merrier!” And she crept up closer and closer. At last, as she 
watched the twisting and twirling, she grew so anxious to try it 
herself that she said, “Good dame, pray let me try to spin.” 

27 


MY BOOK HOUSE 


The old woman smiled till the curves of her mouth went 
way up under her long hook-nose, then she handed Briar-rose 
the distaff and the spindle. The Princess tucked the distaff 
under her left arm as she had seen the old woman do, and started 
to pull out a thread. But alas! she knew nothing of spindles, 
nor had she ever been taught how to handle one properly, so 
at the very first turn, she clumsily thrust the point into her hand 
and pricked her finger. 

In an instant spindle and distaff dropped to the floor; little 
Briar-rose sank upon a bed and lay there in a deep sleep which 
spread over all the castle. Then the little old woman in gray 
disappeared and the room in the tower was quiet and still. 

Down below, the King and Queen, who had just returned 
to the great hall of the castle, went to sleep on their thrones 
and all their courtiers with them. The horses went to 
sleep in their stables, the dogs went to sleep in the yard; the 
pigeons went to sleep on the roof; the flies went to sleep on the 
wall. Even the fire on the kitchen hearth stopped flaming and 
slept in its embers; the great iron kettle above left off boiling, 
and the cook, who was just going to pull the hair of a careless 
scullery boy, let him go and sank down fast asleep. The wind 
fell, the flowers and grasses sank down on the earth and on the 
trees before the castle not a single leaf stirred again. 

Round about all there began to grow a hedge of thorns; snow 
fell with ice and sleet. So years passed by and every year the 
hedge grew denser and higher, till at last it hid every tower from 
sight. Nothing at all could be seen of the castle, not even the 
flags on its roof. And over the spot, year in and year out, it 
was always frozen winter. 

But the story of the beautiful Princess, sleep-bound in her 
castle, still went abroad through the land. 

From time to time, King’s sons came and tried to force them- 
28 


through fairy halls 


selves in through the thorny hedge to awaken her. All these the 
hedge used sadly. The thorns held fast together as if they had 
hands and tore their fine clothes, and scratched and pulled and 
kept them tight caught as if in a net. And Briar-rose slept on. 

At last and at last, after many, many years, there came to 
the land a certain King’s son to whom an old man told the tale 
of the Princess and how sadly the King’s sons had fared who 



29 


MY BOOK HOUSE 


tried to do battle with the hedge. But this youth said, “I am 
not afraid of the hedge. The hedge is nothing to me. I shall go 
and awaken the beautiful Princess.” 

The good old man did all in his power to dissuade the Prince, 
but the youth would not listen to his words. Off he set toward 
the frozen castle. As he drew near he felt its icy breath, he saw 
the snow over all and the giant thorn hedge that rose threatening 
before him. But he strode confidently on, and when he came 
square upon those dark bushes, lo! they turned suddenly fresh 
and green, blossomed with large and splendid flowers, and parted 
of their own accord to let him safely through. Above, the snow 
stopped falling; beneath his feet, ice melted, flowers and grasses 
lifted up their heads. By the time he reached the castle yard, 
all signs of winter had fled, the earth was in bloom about him. 
He saw the horses and dogs asleep, the pigeons on the rooftop 
still with heads buried under their wings. When he entered the 
castle, the flies were still asleep on the wall, the fire still slept in 
its embers, and the cook was still holding out her hand as though 
to cuff the scullery boy. 

Within the great hall, the King and Queen lay asleep on their 
thrones with their whole court sleeping about them. AH was so 
quiet everywhere that a breath could have been heard. At last 
the King’s son came to the stone tower with the narrow stair 
that went winding upward. Up the rickety steps he climbed 
and opened the door of the little chamber. There before him 
on the bed lay Briar-rose asleep. Her cheeks were faintly flushed, 
her hair was like gold, and her clothes were all quaint and old- 
fashioned, like those his great great grandmother had worn. So 
beautiful was she that the King’s son could not turn his eyes 
from her. As he looked, he stooped down and gently gave her 
a kiss. The moment she felt his kiss, Briar-rose opened her 
eyes and awoke. Then she looked at him sweetly and slowly 


30 


THROUGH FAIRY HALLS 


rose from her couch. Hand in hand, down the stairs together 
they went. When they entered the great hall of the castle, the 
King awoke and the Queen and the whole court, and all looked 
at each other astonished. The horses in the courtyard stood up 
and shook themselves; the dogs jumped up and wagged their 
tails; the pigeons on the roof awoke and flew away into the open 
country; the flies on the wall crept again; the fire on the kitchen 
hearth flickered and flamed up; the great iron kettle began to 
boil, and the cook soundly boxed the ears of the scullery boy. 

The very next day the marriage of the King’s son with Briar- 
rose was celebrated with all manner of rejoicing, and inside the 
castle and out was the life and bloom of the spring. 



SONG ON MAY MORNING 
John Milton 

Now the bright morning star, Day’s harbinger, 
Comes dancing from the East, and leads with her 
The flowery May, who from her green lap throws 
The yellow cowslip and the pale primrose. 

Hail, bounteous May, that doth inspire 
Mirth, and youth, and warm desire; 

Woods and groves are of thy dressing, 

Hill and dale doth boast thy blessing. 

Thus we salute thee with our early song. 

And welcome thee, and wish thee long. 


MY BOOK HOUSE 



MR. MOON* 

Bliss Carman 
O Moon, Mr. Moon, 
When you cornin’ down? 
Down on the hilltop, 
Down in the glen, 

Out in the clearin’, 

To play with little men? 
Moon, Mr. Moon, 

When you cornin’ down? 

O Mr. Moon, 

Hurry up your stumps! 
Don’t you hear Bullfrog 
Callin’ to his wife, 

And old black Cricket 
A-wheezin’ at his fife? 
Hurry up your stumps, 
And get on your pumps! 
Moon, Mr. Moon, 

When you cornin’ down? 

O Mr. Moon, 

Hurry up along! 

The reeds in the current 
Are whisperin’ slow; 

The river ’s a-wimplin’ 

To and fro. 

Hurry up along, 

Or you’ll miss the song! 
Moon, Mr. Moon, 

When you cornin’ down? 


^Copyright, 1896, by Small, Maynard and Company. Reprinted by special arrangement with 
the author and publishers. 


32 


THROUGH FAIRY HALLS 



O Mr. Moon, 

We 're all here! 

Honey-bug, Thistledrift, 
White-imp, Weird, 

Wryface, Billiken, 

Quidnunc, Queered: 

We 're all here, 

And the coast is clear! 
Moon, Mr. Moon, 

When you cornin' down? 

O Mr. Moon, 

There’s not much time! 
Hurry, if you 're cornin', 
You lazy old bones! 

You can sleep to-morrow 
While the Buzbuz drones; 
There 's not much time 
Till the church bells chime. 
Moon, Mr. Moon, 

When you cornin' down? 

O Mr. Moon, 

When you cornin' down? 
Down where the Good Folk 
Dance in a ring, 

Down where the Little Folk 
Sing? 

Moon, Mr. Moon, 

When you cornin' down? 


33 


MY BOOK HOUSE 

PRINCE HARWEDA AND THE MAGIC PRISON* 
Elizabeth Harrison 

ITTLE Harweda was bom a prince. His father was 
King over all the land and his mother was the most 
beautiful Queen the world had ever seen and Prince 
Harweda was their only child. From the day of his 
birth everything that love or money could do for him had 
been done. The very wind of heaven was made to fan over 
an aeolian harp that it might enter his room, not as a strong 
fresh breeze, but as a breath of music. Reflectors were 
so arranged in the windows that twice as much moonlight 
fell on his crib as on that of any ordinary child. The 
pillow on which his head rested was made out of the down from 
humming birds’ breasts and the water in which his face and 
hands were washed was always steeped in rose leaves before 
being brought to the nursery. Everything that could be done 
was done, and nothing which could add to his ease or comfort 
was left undone. 

But his parents, although they were King and Queen, were 
not very wise, for they never thought of making the young prince 
think of anybody but himself, so, of course, he grew to be 
selfish and peevish, and by the time he was five years old he 
was so disagreeable that nobody loved him. “Dear, dear! 
what shall we do”, said the poor Queen mother and the King 
only sighed and answered “Ah, what indeed!” They were 
both very much grieved at heart for they well knew that 
little Harweda, although he was a prince, would never grow 
up to be a really great King unless he could make his people 
love him. 

At last they decided to send for his fairy god-mother and 
see if she could suggest anything which would cure Prince Har- 
weda of always thinking about himself. “Well, well, well!” 

★From In Story land. Used by special arrangement with the author. 

• 34 




through fairy halls 

exclaimed the god-mother when they had laid the case before 
her—* This is a pretty state of affairs! and I his god-mother 
too! Why wasn’t I called in sooner?” She then told them 
that she would have to think a day and a night and a day again 
before she could offer them any assistance. “But,” added 
she, if I take the child in charge you must promise not to inter- 
ere for a whole year. ’ The King and Queen gladly promised 
that they would not speak to or even see their son for the 
required time if the fairy god-mother would only cure him. 

“We’ll see about that,” said the god-mother. “Humph, 
expecting to be a King some day and not caring for anybody 
but himself— a fine King he’ll make!” With that off she 
flew and the King and Queen saw nothing more of her for a 
day and a night and another day. Then back she came in a 
great hurry. “Give me the prince,” said she; “I have his 
house all ready for him. One month from to-day I’ll bring him 
back to you. Perhaps he’ll be cured and perhaps he won’t. 
If he is not cured then we shall try two months next time. We’ll 
see, we’ll see.” Without any more ado she picked up the aston- 
ished young prince and flew away with him as lightly as if he 
were nothing but a feather or a straw. In vain the poor Queen 
wept and begged for a last kiss. Before she had wiped her eyes, 
the fairy god-mother and Prince Harweda were out of sight. 

They flew a long distance until they reached a great forest. 
When they had come to the middle of it, down flew the fairy, 
and in a minute more the young prince was standing on the 
green grass beside a beautiful pink marble palace that looked 
something like a good sized summer house. 

“This is your home,” said the god-mother, “in it you will 
find everything you need and you can do just as you choose 
with your time.” Little Harweda was delighted at this for 
there was nothing in the world he liked better than to do as he 


35 


MY BOOK HOUSE 

pleased, so he tossed his cap up into the 
air and ran into the lovely little house with- 
out so much as saying “Thank you” to 
his god-mother. “Humph,” said she as he 
disappeared, “you’ll have enough of it before 
you are through with it, my fine prince.” 
With that off she flew. 

Prince Harweda had no sooner set his foot inside the small 
rose-colored palace than the iron door shut with a bang and 
locked itself. For you must know by this time that it was an 
enchanted house, as all houses are that are built by fairies. 

Prince Harweda did not mind being locked in, as he cared 
very little for the great beautiful outside world, and the new 
home which was to be all his own was very fine, and he was eager 
to examine it. Then too he thought that when he was tired 
of it, all he would have to do would be to kick on the door and 
a servant from somewhere would come and open it,— he had 
always had a servant ready to obey his slightest command 

His fairy god-mother had told him that it was his house, 
therefore he was interested in looking at everything in it. 

The floor was made of a beautiful red copper that shone in 
the sunlight like burnished gold and seemed almost a dark red 
in the shadow. He had never seen anything half so fine before. 
The ceiling was of mother-of-pearl and showed a constant chang- 
ing of tints of red and blue and yellow and green, all blending 
into the gleaming white, as only mother-of-pearl can. From 
the middle of this handsome ceiling hung a large gilded bird 
cage containing a beautiful bird, which just at this moment 
was singing a glad song of welcome to the Prince. Harweda, 
cared however, very little about birds, so he took no notice of 
the songster. 

Around on every side were costly divans with richly embroid- 
36 



THROUGH FAIRY HALLS 

ered coverings, on which were many sizes of soft down pillows. 

Ah, thought the prince, “here I can lounge at my ease with 
no one to call me to stupid lessons!” Wonderfully carved jars 
and vases of wrought gold and silver stood about on the floor 
and each was filled with a different kind of perfume. “This 
is delicious,” said Prince Harweda. “Now I can have all the 
sweet odors I want without the trouble of going out into the 
garden for roses or lilies.” 

In the center of the room was a fountain of sparkling water 
which leaped up and fell back into its marble basin with a kind 
of rhythmical sound that made a faint, dreamy music very pleas- 
ant to listen to. 



37 


MY BOOK HOUSE 

On a table near at hand were various baskets of the most 
tempting pears and grapes and peaches, and near them were 
dishes of all kinds of sweetmeats. “Good,” said the greedy 
young prince, “that is what I like best of all,” and therewith 
he fell to eating the fruit and sweetmeats as fast as he could cram 
them into his mouth. But strange to say, the table was just as 
full as when he began, for no sooner did he reach his hand out 
and take a soft mellow pear or a rich, juicy peach than another 
pear or peach took its place in the basket. The same thing 
occurred when he helped himself to chocolate drops or marsh- 
mallows or any of the other confectionery upon the table. 

When Prince Harweda had eaten until he could eat no more 
he threw himself down upon one of the couches and an invisible 
hand gently stroked his hair until he fell asleep. When he awoke 
he noticed for the first time the walls which, by the way, were 
really the strangest part of his new home. They had in them 
twelve long, checkered windows which reached from the ceiling 
to the floor. The spaces between the windows were filled in with 
mirrors exactly the same size as the windows, so that the whole 
room was walled in with windows and looking glasses. Through 
the three windows that looked to the north could be seen the 
far distant mountains Beautiful, as they were called, towering 
high above the surrounding country; sometimes their snow- 
covered tops were pink or creamy yellow as they caught the rays 
of the sunrise; sometimes they were dark purple or blue as they 
reflected the storm cloud. From the three windows that faced 
the south could be seen the great ocean, tossing and moving, 
constantly catching a thousand gleams of silver from the moon- 
light. Again and again, each little wave would be capped with 
white from its romp with the wind. Yet, as the huge moun- 
tains seemed to reach higher than man could climb, so the vast 
ocean seemed to stretch out farther than any ship could possibly 

38 


through fairy halls 


carry him. The eastern windows gave each morning a glori- 

th! on! 0 " ° f f Y 3S the darkness of the night slowly melted into 
the still gray dawn, and that changed into a golden glow and that 

fill It™ ^f Cam + t 3 tender pink - 11 was reaI1 y the most beauti- 
ul as well as the most mysterious sight on earth if one watched 

it closely The windows on the west looked out upon a great 
forest of tall fir trees and at the time of sunset the glorious colors 
he sunset sky could be seen between the dark green branches, 
ut little Prince Harweda cared for none of these beautiful 
views. In fact, he scarcely glanced out of the windows at all 
he was so taken up with the broad handsome mirrors, for in 
each of them he could see himself reflected and he was very fond 
of looking at himself in a looking glass. He was much pleased 
when he noticed that the mirrors were so arranged that each 
one not only reflected his whole body, head, arms, feet and all, 
but that it also reflected his image as seen in several of the other 
mirrors. He could thus see his front and back and each side, 
all at the same time. As he was a handsome boy he enjoyed 
these many views of himself immensely, and would stand and 
ft and lie down just for the fun of seeing the many images of 
himself do the same thing. 


He spent so much time looking at and admiring himself in 
the wonderful looking-glasses that he had very little time for 
the books and games which had been provided for his amuse- 
ment. Hours were spent each day first before one mirror and 
then another, and he did not notice that the windows were grow- 
ing narrower and the mirrors wider until the former had become so 
small that they hardly admitted light enough for him to see 
himself in the looking-glass. Still, this did not alarm him very 
much as he cared nothing whatever for the outside world. It 
only made him spend more time before the mirror, as it* was 
now getting quite difficult for him to see himself at all. The 


39 


MY BOOK HOUSE 


windows at last became mere slits in the wall 
and the mirrors grew so large that they not 
only reflected little Harweda but all of the 
room besides in a dim, indistinct kind of a way. 

Finally, however, Prince Harweda awoke 
one morning and found himself in total dark- 
ness. Not a ray of light came from the out- 
side and of course, not an object in the room 
could be seen. He rubbed his eyes and sat up 
to make sure that he was not dreaming. Then he called loudly 
for some one to come and open a window for him, but no one 
came. He got up and groped his way to the iron door and tried 
to open it, but it was, as you know, locked. He kicked 
it and beat upon it, but he only bruised his fists and hurt 
his toes. He grew quite angry now. How dare any 
one shut him, a prince, up in a dark prison like this! He abused 
his fairy god-mother, calling her all sorts of horrid names. 
Then he upbraided his father and mother, the King and 
Queen, for letting him go away with such a god-mother. 
In fact, he blamed everybody and everything but himself for 
his present condition, but it was of no use. The sound of his 
own voice was his only answer. The whole of the outside world 
seemed to have forgotten him. 

As he felt his way back to his couch he knocked over one 
of the golden jars which had held the liquid perfume, but the; 
perfume was all gone now and only an empty jar rolled over 
the floor. He laid himself down on the divan but its soft pil- 
lows had been removed and a hard iron frame-work received 
him. He was dismayed and lay for a long time thinkin g of 
what he had best do with himself. All before him was blank 
darkness, as black as the darkest night you ever saw. He 
reached out his hand to get some fruit to eat, but only one or 



40 


THROUGH FAIRY HALLS 

two withered apples remained on the table. Suddenly he noticed 
that the tinkling music of the fountain had ceased. He hastily 
groped his way over to it and he found in place of the dancing, 
running stream stood a silent pool of water. A hush had fallen 
upon everything, a dead silence was in the room. He threw 
himself down upon the floor and lay there fora long, long time. 

At last he heard, or thought he heard, a faint sound. He 
listened eagerly. It seemed to be some tiny creature not far 
from him, trying to move about. For the first time for nearly 
a month he remembered the bird in its gilded cage. “Poor 
little thing,” he cried as he sprang up, “You too are shut within 
this terrible prison. This thick darkness must be as hard for 
you to bear as it is for me.” He went towards the cage and as 
he approached it the bird gave a sad little chirp. 

“You must need some water to drink,” continued he as he 
filled its drinking cup. “This is all I have to give you.” 

Just then he heard a harsh, grating sound, as of rusty bolts 
sliding with difficulty out of their sockets, and then faint rays 
of light not wider than a hair began to shine between the heavy 
plate mirrors. Prince Harweda was filled with joy. “Perhaps, 
perhaps,” said he softly, “I may yet see the light again. Ah! 
how beautiful the outside world would look to me now!” 



41 


MY BOOK HOUSE 

The next day he was so hungry that he began to eat one of 
the old withered apples, and as he bit it, he thought of the bird, 
his fellow-prisoner. “You must be hungry, too, poor little 
thing,” said he as he divided his miserable food and put part of 
it into the bird’s cage. Again came the harsh, grating sound, 
and the boy noticed that the cracks of light were growing larger. 
On going up to one and putting his eye close to it as he would 
to a pinhole in a paper, he was rejoiced to find that he could 
tell the greenness of the grass from the blue of the sky. “Ah, 
my pretty bird,” he cried joyfully, “I have had a glimpse of 
the great beautiful outside world and you shall have it too.” 

With these words he climbed up into a chair and loosening 
the cage from the golden chain by which it hung, he carried it 
carefully to the nearest crack of light and placed it close to the 
narrow opening. Again was heard the harsh, grating sound 
and the walls moved a bit and the windows were now at least 
an inch wide. At this the poor Prince clasped his hands with 
delight. He sat himself down near the bird cage and gazed 
out of the narrow opening. Never before had the trees looked 
so tall and stately, or the white clouds floating through the sky 
so lovely. The next day as he was carefully cleaning the bird’s 
cage so that the little creature might be somewhat more comfort- 
able, the walls again creaked and groaned and the mirrors grew 
narrower by just so many inches as the windows widened. But 
Prince Harweda saw only the flood of sunshine that poured in, 
and the added beauty of the larger landscape. He cared noth- 
ing whatever now for the stupid mirrors which could only reflect 
what was placed before them. Each day he found something 
new and beautiful in the view from the narrow windows. Now 
it was a squirrel frisking about and running up some tall tree 
trunk so rapidly that Prince Harweda could not follow it with 
his eyes; again it was a mother bird feeding her young. By 

42 


through fairy halls 

this time the windows were a foot wide or more. One day as 
two white doves suddenly soared aloft in the blue sky the poor 
little bird who had now become the tenderly cared for comrade 
of the young Prince, gave a pitiful little thrill. “Dear little 
fellow, cried Prince Harweda, “do you also long for your free- 
dom? You shall at least be as free as I am.” So saying, he 
opened the cage door and the bird flew out. 

The Prince laughed as he watched it flutter about from chair 
to table and back to chair again. He was so much occupied 
with the bird that he did not notice that the walls had again 
shaken and the windows were now their full size, until the added 
light caused him to look around. He turned and saw the room 
looking almost exactly as it did the day he entered it with so 
much pride because it was all his own. Now it seemed close 
and stuffy and he would gladly have exchanged it for the humb- 
lest home in his father’s kingdom where he could meet people 
and hear them talk and see them smile at each other, even if 
they should take no notice of him. One day soon after this, 
the little bird fluttered up against the window pane and beat 
his wings against it in a vain effort to get out. A new idea seized 
the young Prince, and taking up one of the golden jars he went 
to the window and struck on one of its checkered panes of glass 
with all his force. “You shall be free, even if I can not,” said 
he to the bird. Two or three strong blows shivered the small 
pane and the bird swept out into the free open air beyond. “Ah, 
my pretty one, how glad I am that you are free at last,” 
exclaimed the prince as he stood watching the flight of his fel- 
low-prisoner. His face was bright with glad, unselfish joy over 
the bird’s liberty. The small, pink marble palace shook from 
top to bottom, the iron door flew open and the fresh wind from 
the sea rushed in and seemed to catch the boy in its invisible 
arms. Prince Harweda could hardly believe his eyes as he sprang 


43 


MY BOOK HOUSE 

to the door. There stood his fairy god-mother, smiling and 
with her hand reached out toward him. “Come, my god-child,” 
said she gently, “we shall now go back to your father and mother.” 

Great indeed was the rejoicing in the palace when Prince 
Harweda was returned to them a sweet, loving boy, kind and 
thoughtful to all about him. Many a struggle he had with 
himself and many a conquest, but as time passed by he grew 
to be a great and wise king, tenderly caring for al 1 his people 
and loved by them in return. 



Hie away, hie away, 

Over bank and over brae! 

Where the copsewood is the greenest, 
Where the fountains glisten sheenest, 
Where the lady-fern grows strongest, 
Where the morning dew lies longest. 
Where the black-cock sweetest sips it, 
Where the fairy latest trips it: 

Hie to haunts right seldom seen, 
Lovely, lonesome, cool, and green! 
Oyer bank and over brae, 

Hie away, hie away! 


44 


THROUGH FAIRY HALLS 



the Black Forest in Germany a broom-maker, named Peter, and 
his wife, Gertrude. They had two children, a boy. Hansel, and 
Grethel, a pretty little girl. Now Peter and Gertrude worked 
hard for a living and Hansel and Grethel each had their tasks 
to perform to help provide for their daily needs. One fine sum- 
mer’s day Gertrude said to the children: 

“Go out into the forest, my dears, and pick some straw- 
berries that our table may not be bare for supper.” 

So Hansel took a basket from the wall, and Grethel took her 
brother by the hand, and off they went into the woods. The 
air was cool and pleasant, the little birds sang in the trees, and 
the children walked along over a carpet of thick, soft moss and 

★Adapted from the opera, Hansel and Grethel, by Humperdinck. 

45 


MY BOOK HOUSE 

sweet-smelling pine needles, while the sunshine trickled down 
through the leaves and made blotches of gold on their path. 
Further and further into the forest they wandered, picking straw- 
berries and gathering flowers, of which they made garlands and 
nosegays. At last Hansel cried joyously: 

See our basket! It is full! We shall all have berries for 
supper.” 

But just at that moment the cry of a cuckoo sounded near at 
hand, echoing through the forest. 

“Cuck-oo! Cuck-oo!” cried Grethel, imitating the cry of the 
bird. “ Cuck-oo, thou stealer of eggs!” 

“Cuck-oo! Cuck-oo!” answered Hansel roguishly. “Cuck-oo, 
thou stealer of strawberries /” And he stole a strawberry out of 
the basket and sucked it into his mouth as though he were a 
cuckoo sucking the egg he had found in another bird's nest. 

* Ho! Ho!” cried Grethel, “I can do that too! Just watch 
me!” And she took a berry also and sucked it into her mouth. 
Then the cuckoo in the forest cried again. 

Cuck-oo! Cuck-oo!” mimicked Grethel, and Hansel laughed 
and cried as before, “Cuck-oo! Cuck-oo! thou stealer of straw- 
berries!” This time, however, he stole not one berry, but a whole 
handful to eat, and Grethel, not to be outdone, took just as many 
as he. So the children played the game of the cuckoo, turn and 
turn about, till they grew so excited over their play, they began 
to snatch the basket back and forth and quarrel over who should 
have it. Hansel was stronger than Grethel and finally he jerked 
it out of her hands. In a twinkling he poured all the rest of the 
berries into his mouth and greedily swallowed them, every one. 

“What have you done? What have you done?” cried Grethel. 
Then she began to weep for she saw what they had done. “We 
have eaten up all the berries and there will be nothing at all 
for mother and father for supper!” 

46 


THROUGH FAIRY HALLS 

At th at , Hansel also stood still and was sorrowful and repentant. 
^ e ™ ust gather more,” he said, but now as the children 
ooked about, they saw that while they had been eating and 
quarreling, the sun had sunk in the west. Dull gold gleamed 
e s y rough the pine trees, the songs of the birds were hushed, 
and about them was dim gray twilight. 

“Nay, we cannot see to gather berries now,” cried Grethel 
and she crowded up close to her brother. Hansel squared his 
shoulders, threw up his head and took his sister by the hand. 
Come,” he said, “I shall find the way out of the forest.” 

On they wandered and on, but they could no longer see the 
path. The further they went, the deeper they lost themselves 
in the wood. And now all the light had faded out of the sky. 
It was dark, quite dark. Black loomed the giant pine trees 
about, ghostly gleamed the little white birches, the woods were 
filled with strange night sounds, over the marshes white mists 
arose, and hither and thither before them darted the gleaming 
nre of the will-o’-the wisp. Still Hansel held his shoulders square 
and strode sturdily forward, holding his sister fast by the hand. 
But at last the two were both wearied out. Not another step 
could they plod. So they stopped in a little glade and said their 
evening prayer together. Then they laid themselves down on 
the moss and fell fast asleep with their arms twined about each 
other. 

By and by a bird twittered in the trees, the sun came streak- 
ing through the leaves— it was morning. Grethel stretched her- 
self and awoke. “Wake up! Wake up, Hansel,” cried she, and 
when he, too, had opened his eyes, they set off once more through 
the forest. 

They had gone some little distance when lo! they came 
straight upon a queer little house and both stood still in amaze- 
ment,— the cottage was all made of frosted cake. Its roof 

47 


MY BOOK HOUSE 



was of tarts and cookies and its windows of transparent sugar. 
Around it stood a fence of life-sized gingerbread girls and boys. 
The children thought they had never seen anything look so 
inviting. 

“Ah,” cried Hansel at once, “this will be something for us! 
We will have a good meal!” And he ran forward and broke 
off a little piece of trimming from the house, while Grethel helped 
herself to a cooky shingle from the roof. Then there was heard 
a little voice from within the cottage: 

“Nibble, nibble, little mouse, 

Who nibbles at my little house?” 

48 


THROUGH FAIRY HALLS 

But the children paid no heed. Hansel seized a whole frost- 
ing balcony and Grethel wrenched off a tart. Then was heard 
again the little voice from within the cottage: 

“Nibble, nibble, little mouse. 

Who nibbles at my little house?” 

Still the children turned a deaf ear and went on cramming 
themselves. Now Hansel boldly broke off a great piece of the 
house itself and Grethel pushed a whole round pane out of one 
of the windows. Then all at once the door opened, and out 
of the sugary-pugary cottage, came an ugly old witch. Hansel 
and Grethel were so astonished that they dropped what they 
held to the ground. But their first alarm was soon lulled to 
rest,^ for the old woman said in a voice as sweet as honey: 

“Ah, my dear sweet little children, who brought you here? 
Come in and stay with me! You shall come to no harm and I 
will feed you full of sweetmeats.” 

She took them by the hand and, thinking only of what more 
they might find to eat within, they followed her into the house. 
A nice dinner she set before them, pancakes and sugar, syrup 
and honey, and soon Hansel and Grethel were so greedily stuffing 
themselves that they forgot entirely to be on their guard against 
the old witch. She called them 
by such pet names as Sugar 
Plum and Sugar Dolly and said 
she loved such sweet little dears 
— loved them so much she could 
just eat them up! But Hansel 
and Grethel paid no heed. After 
dinner, she showed them two 
little white beds into which they 
crawled and there they slept 
through the night. 



49 


MY BOOK HOUSE 

But early in the morning before Hansel and Grethel were 
awake, the old witch got up, went over to a great oven in one 
corner of the house and lit a blazing fire under it. 

“Sweet little dears. They will be dainty morsels. They 
will make beautiful gingerbread children,” she said, for this 
old syrup and honey witch lured children with sweetmeats to her 
sugar cottage. Then she popped them into the oven and turned 
them to ginger-bread. 

. When the fire was going, she seized Hansel right out of bed 
with one bony hand and carried him wriggling and squirming 
off to a cage that stood behind the house. Here she locked him 
up and left him, though he shook the iron bars as hard as he 
could, and shrieked to her boldly to let him loose. After that she 
came back and rudely awakened Grethel. 

“Get up, little lazy bones!” she cried. “Get up and set the 
table. Lay out on the cloth my little plate and my little knife 
and my little napkin to wipe my mouth, and do it all quickly— 
I’m to have a delicious gingerbread boy for my breakfast.” 

Now Grethel began to suspect that the witch was not as 
sweet as she seemed. She saw Hansel shut up in the cage and 
heard the noise he was making, and there she must lay out the 
little plate and wonder what was to be eaten on it, and lay out 
the little knife and wonder what was to be cut with it, and lay 
out the napkin and wonder, wonder, wonder. When the table 
was laid, the old witch called to Grethel. 

“Creep into the oven, little sweetie, and see if it is properly 
heated. If it is, then we’ll put in our dough.” 

She meant when Grethel had crawled in to bang the door 
shut, and have a gingerbread girl as well as a boy for her break- 
fast. But by this time Grethel guessed what the old woman in- 
tended. So she answered: 

“I don’t know how to get into the oven.” 


50 


THROUGH FAIRY HALLS 

“Ah, my dear little sugar-dolly,” cried the witch. “Just 
crawl in. The opening is quite big enough, you can see — I 
could even do it myself.” 

As she spoke, she hobbled up and poked her head into the 
opening. Quick as lightning Grethel gave her a shove and sent 
her head first, sprawling, into the oven. Then Grethel banged 
the door and bolted it and ran off to the iron cage. In a twink- 
ling she had set Hansel free and the two hurried out of the cottage. 

There, all about the house, they saw the row of gingerbread 
children turning pink and rosy, beginning to yawn and stretch 
themselves and move their arms and legs. They had all become 
real children again, set free from the old witch’s charms when 
Grethel popped her into the oven. Joyously they thronged 
around Hansel and Grethel as soon as they awoke. Then all 
in a body they went into the house to peep into the oven and 
see what had become of their enemy. There, lo and behold! 
was no witch at all but just a huge ginger cake! But the chil- 
dren had no more desire to eat sweeties, you may believe, so 
they left the ginger cake and ran, laughing and singing, out into 
the forest. 

They had not gone far, when Hansel and Grethel heard voices 
calling, and in another moment there came Peter and Gertrude 
out of the forest. The children ran and threw themselves into 
the arms of their father and mother. Long had Peter and Ger- 
trude searched for their little ones, and now they held them close 
and covered them with kisses. Then they turned with glad cries 
and started off once more to lead all the children back to their 
homes. As they walked through the woods, Hansel and Grethel 
filled their basket with strawberries and when they returned to 
their own humble cottage, they all shared the simple supper 
and great was their rejoicing. 


51 


MY BOOK HOUSE 

THE PRINCESS ON THE GLASS HILL* 

Sir George Webb Dasent 
ONCE on a time there was a man who had 
a meadow, which lay high up on the hill- 
side, and in the meadow was a bam, which 
he had built to keep his hay in. Now, I 
must tell you there hadn’t been much in 
the bam for the last year or two, for every 
St. John’s night, when the grass stood green- 
est and deepest, the meadow was eaten down 
to the very ground just as if a whole drove 
of sheep had been there feeding on it over 
night. This happened once, it happened twice; so at last the ma n 
grew weary of losing his crop of hay, and said to his sons— for he 
had three of them, and the youngest was nicknamed Boots, of 
course — that now one of them must just go and sleep in the 
bam in the outlying field when St. John’s night came, for 
it was too good a joke that his grass should be eaten, root 
and blade, this year, as it had been the last two years. So which- 
ever of them went must keep a sharp lookout; that was what 
their father said. 

Well, the eldest son was ready to go and watch the meadow; 
trust him for looking after the grass! It shouldn’t be his fault 
if man or beast got a blade of grass. So, when evening came, 
he set off to the barn, and lay down to sleep; but a little on in 
the night came such a clatter, and such an earthquake, that 
walls and roof shook, and groaned, and creaked; then up jumped 
the lad, and took to his heels as fast as ever he could; nor dared 
he once look round till he reached home; and as for the hay, 
why it was eaten up this year just as it had been twice before! 

The next St. John’s night, the man said again it would never 
do to lose all the grass in the outlying field year after year in this 

♦From Popular Tales from the Norse, published by G. P. Putnam’s Sons. 

52 



THROUGH FAIRY HALLS 


way, so one of his sons must just trudge off to watch it, and 
watch it well too. Well, the next oldest son was ready to try 
his luck, so he set off, and lay down to sleep in the bam as his 
brother had done before him; but as night wore on there came on 
a rumbling and quaking of the earth, worse even than on the 
last St. John’s night, and when the lad heard it he got frightened, 
and took to his heels as though he were running a race. 

Next year the turn came to Boots; but when he made ready to 
go, the other two began to laugh, and to make game of him, saying, — 

“You’re just the man to watch the hay, that you are; you 
who have done nothing all your life but sit in the ashes and toast 
yourself by the fire.” 

But Boots did not care a pin for their chattering, and stumped 
away, as evening drew on, up the hill-side to the outlying field. 
There he went inside the bam and lay down; but in about an 
hour’s time the barn began to groan and creak, so that it was 
dreadful to hear. 

“Well,” said Boots to himself, “if it isn’t worse than this, I 
can stand it well enough.” 

A little while after came another creak and an earthquake, 
so that the litter in the bam flew about the lad’s ears. 



53 


MY BOOK HOUSE 

“Oh!” said Boots to himself, “if it isn’t worse than this, I 
daresay I can stand it out.” 

But just then came a third rumbling, and a third earthquake, 
so that the lad thought walls and roof were coming down on 
his head; but it passed off, and all was still as death about him. 

“It’ll come again, I’ll be bound,” thought Boots; but no, 
it did not come again; still it was and still it stayed; but after he 
had lain a little while he heard a noise as if a horse were stand- 
ing just outside the barn-door. He peeped through a chink, 
and there stood a horse feeding away. So big, and fat, and 
grand a horse. Boots had never set eyes on; by his side on the 
grass lay a saddle and bridle, and a full set of armour for a knight, 
all of brass, so bright that the light gleamed from it. 

“Ho, ho!” thought the lad; “it’s you, is it, that eats up our 
hay? I’ll soon put a spoke in your wheel; just see if I don’t.” 

So he lost no time, but took the steel out of his tinder-box, 
and threw it over the horse; then it had no power to stir from the 
spot, and became so tame that the lad could do what he liked with 
it. So he got on its back, and rode off with it to a place which 
no one knew of, and there he put up the horse. When he got 
home his brothers laughed, and asked how he had fared? 

“You didn’t lie long in the bam, even if you had the heart 
to go so far as the field.” 

“Well,” said Boots, “all I can say is, I lay in the barn till 
the sun rose, and neither saw nor heard anything; I can’t think 
what there was in the barn to make you both so afraid.” 

“A pretty story!” said his brothers. “But we’ll soon see how 
you have watched the meadow.” So they set off; but when they 
reached it, there stood the grass as deep and thick as it had been 
over night. 

Well, the next St. John’s eve it was the same story over again; 
neither of the older brothers dared to go out to the outlying 

54 


THROUGH FAIRY HALLS 

field to watch the crop; but Boots, he had the heart to go, and 
everything happened just as it had happened the year before. 
First a clatter and an earthquake, then a greater clatter and 
another earthquake, and so on a third time; only this year the 
earthquakes were far worse than the year before. Then all at 
once everything was as still as death and the lad heard how 
something was cropping the grass outside the barn-door, so he 
stole to the door, and peeped through a chink; and what do you 
think he saw? Why, another horse standing right up against 
the wall, and chewing and champing with might and main. It 
was far finer and fatter than that which came the year before, 
and it had a saddle on its back and a bridle on its neck, and a 
full suit of mail for a knight lay by its side, all of silver, and as 
grand as you would wish to see. 

“Ho, ho!” said Boots to himself; “it’s you that gobbles up our 
hay, is it? I’ll soon put a spoke in your wheel;” and with that 
he took the steel out of his tinder-box, and threw it over the 
horse’s crest, which stood as still as a lamb. Well, the lad rode 
this horse, too, to the hiding-place where he kept the other one, 
and after that he went home. 

“I suppose you’ll tell us,” said one of his brothers, “there’s 
a fine crop this year too, up in the hayfield.” 

“Well, so there is,” said Boots; and off ran the others to see. 
There stood the grass and thick and deep, as it was the year 
before; but they didn’t give Boots softer words for all that. 

Now, when the third St. John’s eve came, the two elder 
still hadn’t the heart to lie out in the bam and watch the grass, 
for they had got so scared at heart the night they lay there before, 
but Boots, he dared to go; and, to make a long story short, the 
very same thing happened this time as had happened twice 
before. Three earthquakes came, one after the other each worse 
than the one which went before, and when the last came, the 


55 


MY BOOK 


HOUSE 



lad danced about with the shock from one bam wall to the other; 
and, after that, all at once, it was still as death. Now when he 
had lain a little while he heard something tugging away at the 
grass outside the bam, so he stole again to the door-chink, and 
peeped out, and there stood a horse close outside— far, far bigger 
and fatter than the two he had taken before. 

“Ho, ho!” said the lad to himself, “it’s you is it, that comes 
here eating up our hay? I’ll soon stop that— I’ll soon put a 
spoke in your wheel.” So he caught up his steel and threw it 
over the horse’s neck, and in a trice it stood as if it were nailed 
to the ground, and Boots could do as he pleased with it. Then 
he rode off with it to the hiding-place where he kept the other 
two, and then went home. When he got home his two brothers 
made game of him as they had done before, saying they could 
see he had watched the grass well, for he looked for all the world 
as if he were walking in his sleep, and many other spiteful things 
they said but Boots gave no heed to them, only asking them to 

56 


THROUGH FAIRY HALLS 


go and see for themselves; and when they went, there stood the 
grass as fine and deep this time as it had been twice before. 

Now, you must know that the king of the country where 
Boots lived had a daughter, whom he would only give to the 
man who could ride up over the hill of glass, for there was a 
high, high, high hill, all of glass, as smooth and slippery as ice, 
close to the king’s palace. Upon the tip-top of the hill the 
king’s daughter was to sit, with three golden apples in her lap, 
and the man who could ride up and carry off the three golden 
apples was to have half the kingdom, and the princess to wife. 
This the king had stuck up on all the church-doors in his realm, 
and had given it out in many other kingdoms besides. Now, 
this princess was so lovely that all who set eyes on her fell over 
head and ears in love with her whether they would or no. So I 
needn’t tell you howf all the princes and knights who heard of 
her were eager to win her and half the kingdom beside; and how 
they came ri ding from all parts of the world on high prancing 
horses, and clad in the grandest clothes, for there wasn’t one of 
them who hadn’t made up his mind that he, and he alone, was to 
win the princess. 

So when the day of trial came, which the king had fixed, 
there was such a crowd of princes and knights under the glass 
hill that it made one’s head whirl to look at them; and every 
one in the country who could even crawl along was off to the 
hill, for they were eager to see the man who was to win the Prin- 
cess. So the two elder brothers set off with the rest; but as for 
Boots, they said outright he shouldn’t go with them, for if they 
were seen with such a dirty lad, all begrimed with smut from 
cleaning their shoes and sifting cinders in the dusthole, they 
said folk would make game of them. 

“Very well,” said Boots, “it’s all one to me. I can go alone, 
and stand or fall by myself.” 


57 


MY BOOK HOUSE 

Now when the two brothers came to the hill of glass the 
knights and princes were all hard at it, riding their horses till 
they were all in a foam; but it was no good, by my troth; for as 
soon as ever the horses set foot on the hill, down they slipped, 
and there wasn’t one who could get a yard or two up; and no 
wonder, for the hill was as smooth as a sheet of glass, and as 
steep as a house-wall. But all were eager to have the Princess 
and half the kingdom. So they rode and slipped, and slipped 
and rode, and still it was the same story over again. At last all 
their horses were so weary that they could scarce lift a leg, and 
in such a sweat that the lather dripped from them, and so the 
knights had to give up trying any more. So the king was just 
thinking that he would proclaim a new trial for the next day, 
to see if they would have better luck, when all at once a knight 
came riding up on so brave a steed no one had ever seen the 
like of it in his bom days, and the knight had mail of brass, and 
the horse a brass bit in his mouth, so bright that the sunbeams 
shone from it. Then all the others called out to him he might 
just as well spare himself the trouble of riding at the hill, for 
it would lead to no good; but he gave no heed to them, and put 
his horse at the hill, and went up it like nothing for a good way, 
about a third of the height; and when he got so far, he turned 
his horse round and rode down again. So lovely a knight the 
Princess thought she had never yet seen, and while he was riding 
she sat and thought to herself— 

“Would to heaven he might only come up, and down the 
other side.” 

And when she saw him turning back, she threw down one of 
the golden apples after him, and it rolled down into his shoe. 
But when he got to the bottom of the hill he rode off so fast that 
no one could tell what had become of him. That evening all 
the knights and princes were to go before the king that he who 

58 


THROUGH FAIRY HALLS 


had ridden so far up the hill might show the apple which the 
princess had thrown, but there was no one who had anything 
to show. One after the other they all came, but not a man could 
show the apples. 

At even the brothers of Boots came home too, and had such 
a long story to tell about the riding up the hill. 

“First of all,” they said, “there was not one of the whole lot 
who could get so much as a stride up; but at last came one who 
had a suit of brass mail, and a brass bridle and saddle, all so 
bright that the sun shone from them a mile off. He was a chap 
to ride, just! He rode a third of the way up the hill of glass, 
and he could easily have ridden the whole way up, if he chose; 
but he turned round and rode down, thinking, maybe, that was 
enough for once.” 

“Oh: I should so like to have seen him, that I should,” said 
Boots, who sat by the fireside, and stuck his feet into the cinders 
as was his wont. 

“Oh!” said his brothers, “you would, would you? You look 
fit to keep company with such high lords, dirty fellow that you 
are sitting there amongst the ashes.” 

Next day the brothers were all for setting off again, and 
Boots begged them this time, too, to let him go with them and 
see the riding; but no, they wouldn’t have him at any price. 

“Well, well!” said Boots; “if I go at all, I must go by myself. 
I’m not afraid.” 

So when the brothers got to the hill of glass, all the princes 
and knights began to ride again, and you may fancy they had 
taken care to shoe their horses sharp; but it was no good— they 
rode and slipped, and slipped and rode, just as they had done 
the day before, and there was not one who could get so far as a 
yard up the hill. And when they had worn out their horses, so 
that they could not stir a leg, they were all forced to give it up 

59 


MY BOOK HOUSE 


as a bad job. So the king thought he might as well proclaim 
that the riding should take place the day after for the last time, 
just to give them one chance more; but all at once it came across 
his mind that he might as well wait a little longer, to see if the 
knight in brass mail would come this day too. Well, they saw 
nothing of him but all at once came one riding on a steed far, 
far, braver and finer than that on which the knight in brass 
had ridden, and he had silver mail, and a silver saddle all so 
bright that the sunbeams gleamed and glanced from them far 
away. Then the others shouted out to him again, saying he 
might as well hold hard, and not try to ride up the hill, for all 
his trouble would be thrown away; but the knight paid no heed 
to them, and rode straight at the hill, and right up it, till he had 
gone two-thirds of the way, and then he wheeled his horse round 
and rode down again. To tell the truth, the princess liked him 
still better than the knight in brass, and she sat and wished he 
might only be able to come right up to the top and down the 
other side; but when she saw him turning back she threw the 
second apple after him, and it rolled down and fell into his shoe. 
But as soon as ever he had come down from the hill of glass, he 
rode off so fast that no one could see what became of him. 

At even, when all were to go in before the king and the 
Princess, that he who had the golden apple might show it, in 
they went, one after the other, but there was no one who had 
any apple to show, and the two brothers, as they had done on 
the former day, went home and told how things had gone, and 
how all had ridden at the hill and none got up. 

“But, last of all,” they said, “came one in a silver suit, and 
his horse had a silver saddle and a silver bridle. He was just 
a chap to ride; and he got two-thirds up the hill, and then turned 
back. He was a fine fellow and no mistake; and the Princess 
threw the second gold apple to him.” 

60 


THROUGH FAIRY HALLS 



6l 


MY BOOK HOUSE 


“Oh!” said Boots, “I should so like to have seen him too, 
that I should.” 

“A pretty story!” they said. “Perhaps you think his coat 
of mail was as bright as the ashes you are always poking about!” 

The third day everything happened as it had happened the 
two days before. There was no one who could get so much as a yard 
up the hill ; and now all waited for the knight in silver mail, but they 
neither saw nor heard of him. At last came one riding on a 
steed, so brave that no one had ever seen his match; and the 
knight had a suit of golden mail, and a golden saddle and bridle, 
so wondrous bright that the sunbeams gleamed from them a 
mile off. The other knights and princes could not find time 
to call out to him not to try his luck, for they were amazed to 
see how grand he was. So he rode at the hill, and tore up it 
like nothing, so that the Princess hadn’t even time to wish that 
he might get up the whole way. As soon as ever he reached 
the top, he took the third golden apple from the Princess’ lap, 
and then turned his horse and rode down again. As soon as he 
got down, he rode off at full speed, and was out of sight in no 
time. 

Now, when the brothers got home at even, you may fancy 
what long stories they told, how the riding had gone off that 
day; and amongst other things, they had a deal to say about 
the knight in golden mail. 

“He just was a chap to ride!” they said, “so grand a knight 
isn’t to be found in the wide world.” 

“Oh!” said Boots, “I should so like to have seen him; that 
I should.” 

Next day all the knights and princes were to pass before 
the king and the Princess— it was too late to do so the night 
before, I suppose— that he who had the gold apple might bring 
it forth; but one came after another, first the princes, and then 

6 2 


THROUGH FAIRY HALLS 


the knights, and still there was no one who could show the 
gold apple. 

“Well,” said the king, “some one must have it, for it was 
something that we all saw with our own eyes, how a man came 
and rode up and bore it off.” 

So he commanded that every one who was in the kingdom 
should come up to the palace and see if they could show the 
apple. Well, they all came, one after another, but no one had 
the golden apple, and after a long time the two brothers of Boots 
came. They were the last of all, so the king asked them if there 
was no one else in the kingdom who hadn’t come. 

“Oh yes,” said they, “we have a brother, but he never carried 
off the golden apple. He hasn’t stirred out of the dust-hole on 
any of the three days.” 

“Never mind that,” said the king; “he may as well come 
up to the palace like the rest.” 

So Boots had to go up to the palace. 

“How, now,” said the king; “have you got the golden apple? 
Speak out!” 

“Yes, I have,” said Boots; “here is the first, and here is 
the second, and here is the third too;” and with that he pulled 
all three golden apples out of his pocket, and at the same time 
threw off his sooty rags, and stood before them in his gleaming 
golden mail. 

“Yes!” said the king; “you shall have my daughter and 
half my kingdom, for you well deserve both her and it.” 

So they got ready for the wedding, and Boots got the Princess 
to wife, and there was great merry-making at the bridal-feast, 
you may fancy, for they could all be merry though they couldn’t 
ride up the hill of glass; and all I can say is, if they haven’t left 
off their merry-making yet, why, they’re still at it. 


63 



THE PERT FIRE ENGINE* 

Gelett Burgess 

There were many fire engines, members of the Fire Depart- 
ment of the City o’Ligg, but of all the number, the most ill- 
behaved was the disreputable little Number Four. He was 
known all over the city as the black sheep of the flock, and every 
one knew the stories of his mischief. 

In spite of his evil deeds he was a very handsome machine, 
wearing a pretty coat of enamel, and all his fittings were nickeled, 
so that they shone like silver buttons. He always had silken 
hose, too, for he was very rich. But he usually was the last 
engine at the fire, and he was always sure to shirk. He would 
hold back when he was signalled to “Play away. Four ,” and he 
would squirt a stream strong enough to drench the Chief, when 

★From The Lively City ^ 

64 


THROUGH FAIRY HALLS 


he should have held back. He consumed an enormous amount 
of the most expensive fuel, and he wheezed and puffed till the air 
shook with vibrations. He could have been the best engine in 
the fire department if he had wanted to, but he didn’t. 

So the people of the City o’ Ligg were not very much sur- 
prised when they heard that Number Four had run away. 
They hoped only that he would stay away, for they could get 
along much better without him. “He’s more trouble than he’s 
worth,” said an old ladder-cart. “I’ve been tempted more than 
once to fall on him and break his boiler for him. He wouldn’t 
even have his hose darned, because he prefers to leak all over 
the street!” 

For a few weeks Number Four enjoyed his truancy. He 
spent most of his time down by a lake, a little outside the city, 
and there he amused himself by going in swimming, and squirting 
water over himself like an elephant, till he shone brilliantly in 
the sunshine. When he was tired of that, he went around to 
the farm houses, and sucked all the water out of their wells, and 
flooded their cellars. The stables were all very much afraid of 
him, but dared not complain, though they told their fences to 
catch him if they could. 

Another favorite game of his was to fill his tank with water, 
and squirt it at the windmills, playing on their sails so as to make 
the wheels spin backwards. This made many of the windmills 
so dizzy that they had to stop pumping for weeks. 

But at last Number Four grew tired of this mischief in the 
country, and he began to cast about for something more exciting 
to do. So one night he loaded himself with water and rolled 
into the City o’ Ligg. 

He drew up before a two-story house that was not painted, 
but only whitewashed, and began to squirt water all over her. 
The poor little house shut all her doors and windows, but even 

65 


HOUSE 


MY BOOK 

then she was drenched to the skin, and after an hour or so, almost 
all the whitewash was soaked off, and she stood cold, dripping 
and shivering in the night air, with her naked boards streaked 
with white. The naughty fire engine laughed brutally at her 
distress, and went back to the lake to concoct more mischief. 

Every night after that, Number Four went into the town and 
drenched the houses, laughing, as he poured streams of cold water 
down their chimneys, breaking their windows, washing away 
their foundations, and splashing them all over with muddy water. 

At last it got to be altogether too much to endure, and the 
houses consulted together to see how Number Four could be 
caught and punished. They could think of no way, however, 
and so, after the fire engine had showered a very old and respect- 
able church, and given it a severe cold, they applied to the tele- 
graph office to help them. 

The telegraph office was by far the cleverest building in the 
City o’ Ligg, but it took him some time to think of a remedy 
for this trouble. He consulted, by wire, with all the offices 
around Ligg, and at last they decided upon a plan. 

Notice was sent to all the telegraph poles to strip off their 
wires and come into Ligg for further orders. The next day the 
houses were surprised to see a procession of long, naked telegraph 
poles march into town, each with a roll of wire on his arm. They 
marched up to the telegraph office that night and received their 
instructions. 

As soon as it was dark, the poles separated this way and 
that, going some to one part of the town, and some to another, 
till the whole city was surrounded. For several hours, while 
the houses slept in peace, the poles worked, going in and out 
with the wires till they had woven a fence all round the town. 
At the principal entrances, they left the streets free for the fire 
engine to get in; but they contrived big V-shaped traps here 

66 


THROUGH FAIRY HALLS 


and there, which could be closed by the poles at a moment’s 
notice. It was by this time twelve o’clock, the hour when 
Number Four usually appeared, and when all the town was 
quiet the poles waited for the bad engine to come. 

At last they heard the rumble of wheels on the road from the 
lake, and in the dark they saw a bright light approaching; it was 
the fire in the naughty engine, who was puffing his way into the 
town, chuckling to himself over the fun he was to have with 
the Town Hall that night; for he had planned to fill the whole 
of the third story with water before he came back. 

Number Four came up to the city gate, with no suspicion 
of what was awaiting him, and boldly rolled up the main avenue, 
past the double line of sleeping houses. There was one house 
that was snoring with a rough noise, and the fire engine turned 
with a laugh and sent a stream of water through the window. 

Suddenly the telegraph poles closed round him; they waved 
and towered over his head, they lay on the ground across his 
road, they threatened to fall upon him. The poor engine was 
terrified out of his senses. He backed and jumped, he whistled 
and groaned, and he spouted a black column of smoke out of his 
funnel, and sent streams of water in every direction. Suddenly 
seeing an opening, he darted back toward the gate, but he soon 
found himself walled in by the wire fences. He tried another 
way and another, but there was no escape; the wires hemmed 
him in on all sides, till he finally was stuck so fast that he could 
not move, and he stood panting, waiting to see what would 
happen next. 

His wheels were tied, and his fires put out, and the next 
morning the poor, shame-faced engine was pulled into town 
past the lines of houses, who jeered at him scornfully. He was 
led into the Park in the center of the City o’ Ligg, and there, 
where all the principal buildings could see, he was severely scolded 

67 


MY BOOK HOUSE 



by the Mayor. It was a long lecture, telling all the story of 
his wickedness, and ending with the sentence that was to be 
inflicted upon him as a punishment. One by one they took off 
his bright red gold wheels, they took off his pole, and whipple 
trees, his seat-cushions, and tool-box, and then they dug a deep 
hole in the middle of the Park, by the side of a well, put him 
in, covered him with dirt, and sodded over the burial place. 

And so now when the tourists in the City o’ Ligg compliment 
the Mayor upon the beautiful fountain that plays night and day 
in the middle of the Park, sending up a straight stream of water 
a hundred feet in the air, the Mayor says: 

“Oh, yes; quite so, quite so! That is the naughty fire engine, 
little Number Four, working out his time of punishment. He 
was put in for twenty years, but if he behaves well, we’re going 
to let him out in nineteen!” 


68 


THROUGH FAIRY HALLS 


THE MARVELOUS POT 
J. Christian Bay* 

Out where the land was poor there stood a small cottage. 
The roof was so low that one could hardly see it from the road. 
In this cottage lived a man and his wife. They were so poor 
that they couldn’t afford to keep more than one cow and yet 
they were honest and worthy. Times became worse and worse, 
they sold their furniture and lived on the bare floor. An ugly 
old man in town bought their poor little things, but refused to 
pay for them, — that was his way of treating poor people. He 
cheated them, too, by putting saw dust in the flour that he sold 
them, and he took their very last cent for sugar so mixed with 
salt that it would not sweeten anything. 

The poor people didn’t know what to do, for their children 
had to go hungry. At last they made up their minds to sell the 
cow, and the man started for town leading Bossy by a rope. As 
he walked along the road, a stranger hailed him, and asked if he 
wanted to sell the cow. 

“I’ll take twenty dollars for her,” answered the man. 

“All my money is gone,” said the stranger, “but look here — 
I have a little thing which is worth more than twenty dollars. 
Here is a pot. I’ll give you that for your cow.” — And he pulled 
forth an old iron pot with three legs and a handle. 

“A pot!” said the poor man. “What good would that pot 
do me and my family when we have nothing to put into it. Do 
you think one gets anything out of a pot with- 
out putting something into it?” 

Just then the three-legged pot began to talk. 

“Take me! Take me!” it said. “I’ll get food 
enough for you and all your family.” 

When the poor man heard this, he thought 
that if the pot could speak it might do even 

^Author of Danish Fairy and Folk Tales . 

69 



MY BOOK HOUSE 


more. So he closed the bargain, took the pot, and brought it home. 

When he returned to the cottage he first went to the stall 
where the good old cow had stood, for he was sorry that he had 
lost her. He then tied the pot where the cow had been, and 
went on into the house. 

“Did you sell the cow?” asked his wife. 

“Yes,” said he, 

“That is well,” remarked the wife. “The money you got will 
last a long time, if we can get some honest flour and sugar of 
the rich merchant.” 

Then the man had to confess that he had received no money 
for the cow. 


“Dear me!” said the woman. “What did you get, then?” 
He told her to go and look in the stall. 

When the wife saw the iron pot she scolded her husband roundly. 
“What a blockhead!” she cried. “Why didn’t I take the 
cow_to town myself! I never heard of such foolishness— to sell 
a good cow for an old iron pot.” 

“Clean me, and put me on the fire!” cried the 
pot all at once. 

The woman was dumb for wonder. 

“Can — can you speak? A-a-are you alive?” 
she asked at last. 

“Come and see!” said the pot. 

^ So the woman took the pot, scrubbed and 

~ " cleaned it, and put it on the fire. 

“I skip, I skip!” cried the pot. 

“How far do you skip?” asked the woman. 

“To the rich man’s house, to the rich man’s house,” cried 
the pot. “Here I go — 

lackady, lackady, lackady, lackady,” 
and off it went on its three small legs, up the road. 



70 


THROUGH FAIRY HALLS 

The rich merchant lived in the middle of the town, in a great 
house. His wife was in the kitchen, baking bread, when the pot 
came pattering in, jumped on the table and stood there, stock still. 

“Well,” exclaimed the rich man’s wife, “I call that luck. 
I just need you for the pudding I am going to bake.” So she put 
all kinds of good things into the pot, — fine flour, sweet sugar, 
a lot of butter, raisins, almonds, and a good pinch of spices for 
flavoring. At last, when the pot was full of rich and savory dough, 
she tried to take it by the handle, to put it into the oven, — but 
lackady, lackady, lackady, lackady, 
went the three short legs, and the pot was soon 
out of the door. 

“ Dear me ! ” screamed the woman. “ Where 
are you going with my fine pudding?” 

“To the poor man’s home, to the poor man’s 
home,” said the pot, and off it went in earnest. 

When the poor people saw the pot as it 
skipped into their room, with the pudding, they were very glad. 
The man asked his wife if she didn’t think the bargain turned out 
pretty well, after all. She said she was pleased indeed, and 
begged pardon for the hard words she had used. They made a fine 
meal of the pudding, and the children had all they could eat. 

Next morning the pot again cried, “I skip, I skip!” 

“How far do you skip?” asked they. 

“To the rich man’s bam, to the rich man’s bam,” it shouted, 
and off it went. 

When it came to the rich man’s bam, it stopped at the gate. 
There were some men inside, threshing wheat. 

“Look at that black pot!” they said. “Let us see how much 
it will hold!” And so they poured a bushel of wheat into it. 
The pot held it all, and there was still space left. Another bushel 
went in, but even this did not fill the pot. So they threw in 



7 1 


MY BOOK HOUSE 

every grain of wheat they had. When there was no more left, 
the legs began to move, and 

lackady, lackady, lackady, lackady, 
the pot was off up the road. 

“Stop!” cried the men. “Where do you go with all our wheat?” 

“To the poor man’s home, to the poor man’s home!” cried 
the pot.^and off it went on its way. 

Next morning the pot once more skipped up the old road. 
The sun was out, the birds bathed in the brook, and the air was 
so warm that the rich merchant had spread his money on a table 
near an open window to prevent the gold from becoming tarnished. 

All at once the pot stood on the window-sill, and as the man 
counted his money, it made a skip and a bound and stood right 
beside him. He could not imagine where the pot came from, but 
thought it would be a good place to put his money as he counted it. 
So he threw in one handful after another until all was there. 
At that the pot made another skip and a bound and landed on 
the window-sill. 

“Hold on!” shouted the rich merchant. 

“Where are you going with my money?” 

“To the poor man’s home, to the poor 
man’s home,” answered the pot, as it jumped 
from the window, and it skipped down the road 
so merrily that the money danced within it. In 
the middle of the poor man’s house it stopped and turned a 
somersault. The money rolled all over the floor, and the poor 
people could scarcely believe their eyes. Then the little pot cried : 

“As much for you as is your due, and the rest for the other 
poor people in town from whom the rich man stole it.” 

“Many thanks, little pot,” said the man and his wife. “We’ll 
keep you well cleaned and scoured for this!” 

Next morning the pot again said it was ready to skip. 

72 



THROUGH FAIRY HALLS 

“How far do you skip?” asked the farmer’s family. 

“To the rich man’s house, to the rich man’s house.” And 
off it was. It never stopped until it stood right in the middle of 
the rich man’s office. As soon as he saw it, he cried: 

“There is the black pot that carried off our pudding, our 
wheat, and all our money! — Here you! Give back all the things 
you took from me!” 

“You took it from the poor people all over town,” answered 
the pot. “Now it goes back to whom it belongs. Make your 
money honestly, and you’ll keep it — Good-bye.” 

The three short legs began to move. 

“Hold on!” yelled the merchant, and he flung himself squarely 
on the pot to hold it. But the pot kept on moving. 

“I skip, I skip!” cried the pot. 

“Skip to the North Pole, if you wish,” shrieked the merchant. 
At that, the pot skipped down the road, and the man now found 
himself stuck to it fast and carried along by force. He tried hard, 
but could not free himself. He saw the doors of his neighbors’ 
houses rushing past, and yelled for help, but nobody heard him. 
The pot ran faster and faster. It passed the poor people’s little 
cottage, but never, never stopped. 

And nobody ever saw hide or hair of the rich merchant who 
mixed his flour with sawdust and put salt in the sugar, until some 
wise men one day climbed way up to the top of the Earth and 
discovered the North Pole. There sat the rich man rubbing his 
nose with both hands, for it was purple with cold. 



73 


M Y 


BOOK HOUSE 

DANIEL O’ROURKE 
Adapted from T. Crofton Croker 

EOPLE may have heard of the renowned adventures 
of Daniel O’Rourke, but few there be who know that 
the cause of all his perils, above and below, was neither 
more nor less than his having slept under the walls of 
the Pooka’s Tower. An old man was he at the time 
he told me the story, with gray hair and a red nose; 
he sat smoking his pipe under the old poplar tree, on as fine 
an evening as ever shone from the sky. 

“I am often axed to tell it, sir,” said he. “The master’s 
son, you see, had come from beyond foreign parts in France and 
Spain as young gentlemen used to do, and, sure enough, there 
was a dinner given to all the people on the ground, gentle and 
simple, high and low, rich and poor. 

“Well, we had everything of the best, and plenty of it; and 
it was in the wee small hours o’ the morning that I left the place. 
Just as I was crossing the stepping-stones of the ford of Bally- 
ashenogh, hard by the Pooka’s Tower, and was looking up at 
the stars, whistling to keep awake, I missed my foot, and souse 
I fell into the water. ‘Begorra!’ thought I, ‘Is it drounded 
I’m goin’ to be?’ However, I began swimming, swimming, 
swimming away for dear life, till at last I got ashore, somehow 
or other, but never the one of me can tell how, on a desarted 
island. 

“I wandered and wandered about, without knowing where 
I wandered, until at last I got into a big bog. The moon was 
shining as bright as day, and I looked east and west, north and 
south, and every way, and nothing did I see but bog, bog, bog. 
So I sat upon a stone, and I began to scratch my head, for, sure 
and certain, thinks I, here’s the end o’ Daniel O’Rourke. And 

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THROUGH FAIRY HALLS 

I began to sing the ULLAGONE — when all of a sudden the 
moon grew black, and I looked up and saw something for all 
the world as if it was moving down between me and it, and I 
could not tell what it was. Down it came with a pounce, and 
looked at me full in the face; and what was it but an eagle? — 
as fine a one as ever flew from the kingdom of Kerry. So he 
looked at me in the face, and says he to me, ‘Daniel O’Rourke,’ 
says he, ‘how do you do?’ 

“ ‘Very well, I thank you, sir,’ says I; ‘I hope you’re well;’ 
wondering out of my senses all the time how an eagle came to 
speak like a Christian. 

“ ‘What brings you here, Dan?’ says he. 

“ ‘Nothing at all, sir,’ says I, ‘only I wish I was safe home 
again.’ 

“ ‘Is it out of the bog you want to go, Dan?’ says he. 

“ ‘ ’Tis, sir’,” says I. 

“ ‘Dan,’ says he, after a minute’s thought, ‘as you are a decent 
sober man, who never flings stones at me or mine, my life for 
yours,’ says he; ‘get up on my back, grip me well, and I’ll fly you 
out of the bog.’ 

“ ‘I am afraid,’ says I, ‘your honour’s making game of me; 
for whoever heard of riding a-horse-back on an eagle before?’ 

“ ‘Ton the honour of a gentleman,’ says he, putting his right 
foot on his breast, ‘I am quite in earnest; and so now either take 
my offer or starve in the bog!’ 

“I had no choice; so, thinks I to myself, faint heart never 
won fair lady. ‘I thank your honour,’ says I, ‘for the kind offer.’ 

I therefore mounted on the back of the eagle, and held him tight 
enough by the throat, and up he flew in the air like a lark. Little 
I knew the trick he was going to serve me. Up, up, up — God 
knows how far he flew. ‘Why then,’ said I to him — thinking 
he did not know the right road home — very civilly, because 


75 


MY BOOK HOUSE 

why? I was in his power entirely; ‘sir,’ says I, ‘please your 
honour’s glory, and with humble submission to your better judg- 
ment, if you d fly down a bit, you’re now just over my cabin, 
and I could be put down there, and many thanks to your worship.’ 

“ ‘An ah, Dan,’ says he, ‘do you think me a fool? Hold your 
tongue, and mind your own business, and don’t be interfering 
with the business of other people.’ 

“‘Faith, this is my business, I think,’ says I. ‘Where in 
the world are you going, sir?’ 

‘ ‘Be quiet, Dan!’ says he, and bedad he flew on and on. 

“Well, sir, where should we come to at last but to the moon 
itself. Now you can’t see it from here, but there is, or there 
was in my time, a reaping-hook sticking out of the side of the moon. 

“ ‘Dan,’ says the eagle, ‘I’m tired with this long fly. I had 
no notion ’twas so far!’ 

And my lord, sir,’ says I, ‘who in the world axed you to 
fly so far — was it I? Did not I beg and pray and beseech you 
to stop half an hour ago?” 

“‘There’s no use talking, Dan,’ said he; ‘I’m tired bad 
enough, so you must get off, and sit down on the moon until 
I rest myself.’ 

“ ‘Is it sit down upon that little round thing?’ said I. ‘Why, 
then, sure, I’d fall off in a minute and be spilt and smashed 
entirely. You are a vile deceiver — so you are.’ 

“ ‘Not at all, Dan,’ says he; ‘you can catch fast hold of the 
reaping-hook that’s sticking out of the side of the moon, and 
’twill keep you up.’ 

“ ‘I won’t then,’ said I. 

“ ‘Maybe not,’ said he, quite quiet. ‘If you don’t, my man, 

I shall just give you a shake, and one slap of my wing, and send 
you down smash to the ground!’ 

76 


THROUGH FAIRY HALLS 

“ ‘Why, then, I’m in a fine way,’ said I to myself, ‘ever to 
have come along with the likes of you’; and so, telling him plain 
to his face what I thought of him (but in Irish, for fear he’d know 
what I said) I got off his back with a heavy heart, took hold of 
the reaping-hook, and sat down upon the moon. 

“When he had me there fairly landed, he turned about on 
me, and said, ‘Good morning to you, Daniel O’Rourke,’ said 
he; ‘I think I’ve nicked you fairly now. You robbed my nest 
last year and in return you are freely welcome to cool your heels 
dangling upon the moon.’ 

“ ‘Is this how you leave me, you brute, you,’ says I. ‘You 
ugly, unnatural baste!' 'Twas all to no manner of use; he 
spread out his great wings, burst out a-laughing, and flew away 
like lightning. I bawled after him to stop; but I might have 
called and bawled forever, without his minding me. Away he 
went and I never saw him from that day to this. You may be 
sure I was in a disconsolate condition, and kept roaring out for 
the bare grief, when all at once a door opened right in the middle 
of the moon! creaking on its hinges as if it had not been opened 



77 


MY BOOK HOUSE 


for a month before — I suppose they never thought of greasing 
them — and out there walks — who do you think but the man in 
the moon* himself ? I knew him by his bush. 

‘“Good morrow to you, Daniel O’Rourke,’ says he, ‘how 
do you do?” 

“‘Very well, thank your honour,’ says I. ‘I hope your 
honour’s well.’ 

“ ‘What brought you here, Dan?’ said he. So I told him all 
the whole terrible story. 

“ ‘ Dan,’ said the man in the moon, taking a pinch of snuff 
when I was done, ‘you must not stay here.’ 

“ ‘Indeed, sir,’ says I, ‘ ’tis much against my will that I’m 
here at all; but how am I to go back?’ 

“ ‘That’s your business,’ said he; ‘Dan, mine is to tell you 
that you must not stay, so be off in less than no time.’ 

“ ‘I’m doing no harm,’ said I, ‘only holding on hard by the 
reaping-hook lest I fall off.’ 

“ ‘That’s what you must not do, Dan,’ says he. 

“‘Faith, and with your leave,’ says I, ‘I’ll not let go the 
reaping-hook, and the more you bids me, the more I won’t let 
go — so I will.’ 

“ ‘You had better, Dan,’ says he again. 

“ ‘Why, then, my little fellow,’ says I, taking the whole 
weight of him with my eye from head to foot, ‘there are two 
words to that bargain; and I’ll not budge!’ 

“ ‘We’ll see how that is to be,’ says he; and back he went, 
giving the door such a great bang after him (for it was plain he was 
huffed) that I thought the moon and all would fall down with it. 

“ ‘Well, I was preparing myself to try strength with him, 
when back he comes, with the kitchen cleaver in his hand, and 
without saying a word he gives two bangs to the handle of the 
reaping-hook that was holding me up, and ivhap, it came in two. 

78 


THROUGH FAIRY HALLS 

‘Good morning to you, Dan,’ says the blackguard, when he saw 
me cleanly falling down with a bit of the handle in my hand, 
‘ I thank you for your visit, and fair weather after you, Daniel.’ 
I had no time to make any answer to him, for I was tumbling 
over and over, and rolling and rolling, at the rate of a fox-hunt. 
‘God help me!’ says I. ‘But this is a pretty pickle for a decent 
man to be seen in at this time o’ night. I am now sold fairly.’ 
The word was not out of my mouth, when, whiz! what should 
fly by close to my ear but a flock of wild geese, all the way from 
my own bog of Ballyashenogh, else how should they know me? 
The ould gander, who was their general, turning about his head, 
cried out to me, ‘ Is that you, Dan? ’ 

“ ‘The same,’ said I. 

“ ‘Good morrow to you,’ says he, ‘Daniel O’Rourke; how are 
you in health this morning?’ 

“‘Very well, sir,’ says I, ‘thank you kindly!’ drawing my 
breath, for I was mightily in want of some. ‘ I hope your honour’s 
the same? ’ 


“ ‘I think ’tis falling you are, Daniel,’ says he. 

“ ‘You may say that, sir,’ says I. 

“‘And where are you going all the way so fast?’ said the 



79 


MY BOOK HOUSE 


gander, so I told him all the whole terrible story and never the 
once stopped rolling. 

“ ‘Dan,’ says he, ‘I’ll save you; put out your hand and catch 
me by the leg, and I’ll fly you home.’ Well, I didn’t much trust 
the gander, but there was no help for it. So I caught him by 
the leg, and away I and the other geese flew after him as fast 
as hops. 

“We flew, and we flew, and we flew, until we came right over 
the ocean. ‘Ah, my lord,’ said I to the goose, for I thought it 
best to keep a civil tongue in my head, ‘fly to land, if you please.’ 

“ ‘It is impossible, Dan,’ said he, ‘for you see, we are going 
to Arabia!’ 

“ ‘To Arabia!’ said I. ‘Oh! Mr. Goose, why, then, to be 
sure, I’m a man to be pitied among you.’ 

“ ‘Whist, whist, you impident rascal,’ say she, ‘hold your 
tongue. Arabia is a very decent sort of place.’ 

“Just as we were talking a ship hove in sight, sailing so beauti- 
ful before the wind. ‘Ah, then, sir,’ said I, ‘will you drop me on 
the ship, if you please?’ 

“ ‘We are not fair over it,’ said he; ‘if I dropped you now 
you would go splash into the sea.’ 

“ ‘I would not,’ says I, ‘I know better than that, so let me 
drop at once.’ 

“‘If you must, you must,’ said he; ‘there, take your own 
way’; and he opened his claw, and, faith, he was right — I came 
down plump into the sea! Down to the very bottom I went, 
and I gave myself up, then, for ever, when a whale walked up to 
me, scratching himself after his night’s sleep, and looked me 
full in the face, and never the word did he say, but, lifting up his 
tail, he splashed me all over again with the cold salt water till 
there wasn’t a dry stitch on me! And I heard somebody saying 
— ’twas a voice I knew, too — ‘ Get up, you lazy vagabond ’ With 

80 


THROUGH FAIRY HALLS 


that I woke up, and there was Judy with a tub full of water, 
splashing, splashing all over me. 

“ ‘ Get up,’ says she, 4 and to work. Late out o’nights, no 
reason for shlapin’ late o’ morning. Off with you after the pigs!’ 

“Begorra! of all the places in the parish, there I’d been 
fast asleep under the ould walls of the Pooka’s Tower. And 
what with eagles, and men of the moon, and ganders, and 
whales, driving me through bogs, and up to the moon, and 
down to the bottom of the ocean, I never again took forty winks 
on the road coming home from a party — leastwise not under the 
Pooka’s Tower!” 

HER DAIRY* 



“A milkweed, and a buttercup, and cowslip ,” said sweet Mary, 
“Are growing in my garden-plot, and this I call my dairy. 

— Peter Newell. 


★From Pictures and Rhymes , published by Harper & Brothers. 

8l 


my book house 



THE WISE MEN OF GOTHAM 

Three wise men of Gotham , 

They went to sea in a bowl , 

And if the bowl had been stronger , 
My tale had been longer . 



In old days the village of Gotham was known throughout 
all merry England, for that its men were wondrous wise. 

On a time, twelve wise men of Gotham went a-fishing. Some 
went into the water and some fished on dry land. As they ambled 
home at night fall, says one to the others, “We have been ven- 
turesome this day, comrades, a-wading in the brook. A marvel 
is it if none of us was drowned !” 

“Aye, marry !” says another. “ Twere well to count our- 
selves, lest, peradventure, one be left behind! Twelve of us did 
come from homer 

So every man did count the others, man by man, and did 
never count himself! 

“Lauk-a-mercy-on-us!” they all began to cry. “Here be but 
eleven. One of us is drowned !” 

So they ran back to the brook, and looked up and down, 
and here and there with outcries and loud lamentations. 

Anon, came riding by a gentleman. “Save you, sirs,” says 
he. “Why all this dreadful dole?” 

“Alas, good master,” cried the wise men. “This day there 
came twelve of us to fish in this brook, and one of us is drowned!” 

“Bless me!” says the gentleman. “Count yourselves, then, 
man by man !” And each did count eleven and never count himself. 

“ Twere pity of my life if one among so wise a company 
were lost,” says the gentleman. “I pray you, what will you give 
me an I find the twelfth man?” 

“All that is in our wallets,” said the men of Gotham. 


82 


THROUGH FAIRY HALLS 



So they gave the gentleman all the money they had; then he 
began with the first and gave him a whack on the shoulders with the 
flat of his sword, that he shrieked aloud. “That is one, by your 
leave! says he, and he served them all likewise, counting them 
man by man. But when he was come to the last, he gave him 
a most dreadful whack, that he scarce held his footing. “By 
my faith!” cried he. “Here is your twelfth man!” 

“Marvelous!” cried all the company. “Marvelous past the 
wit of man! You have found our neighbor that was lost!” 

The next day but one, there went to market to Nottingham 
to buy sheep, a certain man of Gotham, and, as he crossed over 
Nottingham bridge, he met another man of Gotham going home. 

“Where are you going?” asked he that came from Nottingham 
— Dobbin by name. 

“Marry,” says Hodge that was going to Nottingham. “I am 
going to buy sheep.” 

“And which way will you bring them home?” says Dobbin. 

“Over this bridge,” says Hodge. 

83 


MY BOOK HOUSE 

“Not so, neither,” says Dobbin. “I like not to have sheep 
cross over this bridge.” 

“Beshrew me!” says Hodge, “but I 
will bring them over the bridge an I 
choose!” 

“By my life, but you will not!” 

“I will!” 

“You will not!” 

“Rascal!” 

“Rogue!” 

And they fell a-beating their staves one 
against another as if there had been an hundred sheep between them. 

“Have a care!” cried Hodge. “What with all this noise, 
my sheep will jump off the bridge!” 

“It matters not!” shrieked Dobbin. “They shall not cross!” 

“If thou makest so much to do. I’ll put my fist in thy face!” 

“And I’ll put my staff on thy pate!” 

As they were thus at contention, there came by another man 
of Gotham with a sack of meal on his horse. Seeing his neighbors 
thus at strife about sheep when there were no sheep between 
them, he said, “How now, stupid fellows, will you never learn 
wisdom? Peace! Peace!” Then he took down the sack of 
meal from his horse, went to the side of the bridge, opened the 
mouth of the sack, and shook all his meal out into the river. 

“Look you, sirrahs,” says he. “How much meal is there in 
my sack?” 

“Marry!” said they. “None at all!” 

“By my faith,” says he. “There’s even as much meal in 
my sack as wit in your heads, to be at strife about nothing! Let 
this be a lesson to you!” 

And he went on his way with his empty sack, looking most 
marvelous wise. 



84 


THROUGH FAIRY HALLS 

When the summer was come, the men of Gotham found a 
cuckoo in a hawthorn-brake, singing a rare enchanting song. 

Ho, said they, “we will take this wondrous creature into 
the midst of our village where all may hear it sing, and build a 
hedge about it, that we may keep it with us all the year.” 

So they fetched the cuckoo into the town and built a high 
hedge about it. 

“Sing there now all the year,” said they. At that, up sprang 
the cuckoo and flew away. 

“A murrain on us for stupid fellows,” cried the men of Gotham. 
“We should have built our hedge higher!” 

WILD FLOWERS* 



“0/ what are you afraid , my child? 1 ' inquired the kindly teacher . 
“0, sir! the flowers , they are wild ,” replied the timid creature. 

— Peter Newell. 

★From Pictures and Rhymes. Harper & Brothers, Publishers. 

85 


MY BOOK HOUSE 

WHERE SARAH JANE’S DOLL WENT* 

Mary E. Wilkins Freeman 

In the first place, Sarah Jane had no right to take the doll 
to school, but the temptation was too much for her. The doll 
was new— it was, in fact, only one day old— and such a doll! 
Rag, of course — Sarah Jane had heard only vague rumors of 
other kinds — but no more like the ordinary rag doll than a fairy 
princess is like a dairymaid. The minute that Sarah Jane saw 
it she knew at once that there never had been such a doll. It 
was small — not more than seven or eight inches tall — not by 
any means the usual big, sprawling, moon-faced rag baby with 
its arms standing out at right angles with its body. It was tiny 
and genteel in figure, slim-waisted, and straight-backed. It 
was made of, not common cotton cloth, but linen — real glossy 
white linen which Sarah Jane’s mother, and consequently the 
doll s grandmother, had spun and woven. Its face was colored 
after a fashion which was real high art to Sarah Jane. The 
little cheeks and mouth were sparingly flushed with cranberry 
juice, and the eyes beamed blue with indigo. The nose was 
delicately traced with a quill dipped in its grandfather’s ink- 
stand, and though not quite as natural as the rest of the features, 
showed fine effort. Its little wig was made from the fine ravel- 
lings of Serena’s brown silk stockings. 

Serena was Sarah Jane’s married sister, who lived in the next 
house across the broad green yard, and she had made this won- 
derful doll. She brought it over one evening just before Sarah 
Jane went to bed. “There,” said she, “if you’ll be a real good 
girl I’ll give you this.” 

“Oh,” cried Sarah Jane, and she could say no more. 

Serena, who was only a girl herself, dandled the doll impres- 
sively before her bewildered eyes. It was dressed in a charming 
frock made from a bit of Serena’s best French calico. The 

★From Y °ung Lucretia, copyrighted by Harper & Brothers. Used by permission of the 


86 


THROUGH FAIRY HALLS 


frock was of a pale lilac color with roses sprinkled over it, and 
was cut with a low neck and short puffed sleeves. 

“Now, Sarah Jane,” said Serena admonishingly, “there’s one 
thing I want to tell you: you mustn’t carry this doll to school. 
If you do, you’ll lose it; and you won’t get another very soon. 
It was a good deal of work to make it. Now you mind what I say.” 

“Yes, ma’am,” said Sarah Jane. It was not her habit to say 
ma am to her sister Serena, if she was twelve years older than she; 
but she did now, and reached out impatiently for the doll. 

“Well, you remember,” said Serena. “If you take it to 
school and lose it, it’ll be the last doll you’ll get.” 

And Sarah Jane said, “Yes, ma’am,” again. 

She had to go to bed directly, but she took the new doll 
with her — that was not forbidden, much to her relief. And be- 
fore she went to sleep she had named her with a most flowery 
name, nothing less than Lily Rosalie Violet May. It took her 
a long time to decide upon it, but she was finally quite satisfied, 
and went to sleep hugging Lily Rosalie, and dreamed about her 
next day’s spelling lesson— that she failed and went to the foot 
of the class. 

It was singular, but for once a dream of Sarah Jane’s came 
true. She actually did miss in her spelling lesson the next day, 
and although she did not go quite to the foot of the class, she 
went very near to it. But if Sarah Jane was not able to spell 
scissors correctly, she could have spelled with great success Lily 
Rosalie Violet May. All the evening she had been printing it 
over and over on a fly-leaf of her spelling-book. She could 
feel no interest in scissors, which had no connection, except a 
past one, with her beloved new doll. 

Poor Sarah Jane lived such a long way from school that she 
had to carry her dinner with her, so there was a whole day’s 
separation, when she had only possessed Lily Rosalie for a mat- 

87 


MY BOOK HOUSE 



ter of twelve hours. It was hard. She told some of her parti- 
cular cronies about her, and described her charms with enthu- 
siasm, but it was not quite equal to displaying her in person. 

The little girls promised to come over and see the new doll 
just as soon as their mothers would let them, and one, Ruth 
Gurney, who was Sarah Jane’s especial friend, said she would 
go home with her that very night— she didn’t believe her mother 
would care — but they were going to have company at tea, and 
she was afraid if she were late, and had to sit at the second table, 
that she wouldn’t get any currant tarts. 

Sarah Jane did not urge her, but she felt deeply hurt that 
Ruth could prefer currant tarts to a sight of Lily Rosalie. 

She was rather apt to loiter on her way home. There was 
much temptation to at this time of the year, when the mead- 
ows on either side of the road were so brimful of grass and flowers, 
when the air was so sweet, and so many birds were singing. There 
was a brook on the way, and occasionally Sarah Jane used to 
stop and have a little secret wade. But to-night neither nod- 
ding way-side flowers nor softly rippling brook had any attrac- 
tion for her. Straight home, her little starched white sun-bon- 
net pointing ahead unswervingly, her small pattering feet never 

88 


THROUGH FAIRY HALLS 


turning aside from the narrow beaten track between the way- 
side grasses, she went to Lily Rosalie Violet May. 

She found her just as beautiful as when she left her. That 
long day of absence, filled in with her extravagant childish fancy, 
had not caused her charms to lessen in the least. 

Sarah Jane ran straight to the linen chest, in whose till she 
had hidden for safety the precious doll, and there she lay, her 
indigo blue eyes staring up, smiling at her with the sweet cran- 
berry-colored smile which Serena had fixed on her face. Sarah 



8q 




MY BOOK HOUSE 

Jane caught her up in rapture. Her mother told Serena that 
night that she didn’t know when she’d seen the child so tickled 
with anything as she was with that doll. 

“She didn’t carry it to the school, did she?” said Serena. 

“No. I guess she won’t want to, as long as you told her 
not to,” replied her mother. 

Sarah Jane had been always an obedient little girl; but — 
she had never before had Lily Rosalie Violet May. Her mother 
did not consider that. 

Sarah Jane did not have a pocket made in her dress; it was 
not then the fashion. Instead, she wore a very large-sized one, 
made of stout cotton, tied around her waist by a string under 
her dress skirt. The next day, when Sarah Jane went to school, 
she carried in this pocket her new doll. She was quite late this 
morning, so there was no time to display it before school com- 
menced. 

Once, when the high arithmetic class was out on the floor, 
she pulled it slyly out of her pocket, held it under her desk, and 
poked Ruth Gurney, who sat in the next seat. 

“Oh!” gasped Ruth, almost aloud. The doll seemed to 
fascinate everybody. “Let me take it,” motioned Ruth; but 
Sarah Jane shook a wise head, and slid Lily Rosalie back in 
her pocket. She was not going to run the risk of having her 
confiscated by the teacher. But when recess came Sarah Jane 
was soon the proud little centre of an admiring group. 

“Sarah Jane’s got the handsomest new doll,” one whispered 
to another, and they all crowded around. Even some of the 
“big girls” came, and two or three of the big boys. Sarah Jane 
was one of the smallest girls in school, and sat in the very front 
seat. Now she felt like a big girl herself. This wonderful doll 
raised her at once to a position of importance. There she stood 
in the comer by the window, and proudly held it. She wore 


90 


THROUGH FAIRY HALLS 


a neat cotton dress cut after the fashion of Lily Rosalie’s, with 
a low neck and short sleeves, displaying her dimpled neck 
and arms. Her round cheeks were flushed with a softer pink 
than the doll’s, and her honest brown eyes were full of delight. 

One and another of the girls begged for the privilege of taking 
the doll a moment and Sarah Jane would grant it, and then 
watch them with thinly veiled anxiety. Suppose their fingers 
shouldn’t be quite clean, and there should be a spot on Lily 
Rosalie’s beautiful white linen skin! One of the girls rubbed her 
cheeks to see if the red would come off, and Sarah Jane wriggled. 

Joe West was one of the big boys who had joined the group. 
Years after, he was Joseph B. West, an eminent city lawyer. 
Years after that, he was Judge West of the Superior Court. Now 
he was simply Joe West, a tall, lanky boy with a long rosy face 
and a high forehead. His arms came too far through his jacket 
sleeves, and showed his wrists, which looked unnaturally 
knobby and bony. He went barefoot all summer long, and 
was much given to chewing sassafras. 

He offered a piece to Sarah Jane now, extracting it with 
gravity from a mass of chalk, top strings, buttons, nails, and 
other wealth with which his pocket was filled. 

Sarah Jane accepted it with a modest little blush, and 
plumped it into her rosy mouth. 

Then Joe West followed up his advantage. “Say, Sarah 
Jane,” said he, “lemme take her a minute.” 

She eyed him doubtfully. Somehow she mistrusted him. 
Joe West had rather the reputation of being a sore tease. 

“She’s just the prettiest doll I ever saw,” Joe went on. 
“Lemme take her just a minute, Sarah Jane; now do.” 

“He’s just stuffing you, Sarah Jane; don’t you let him touch 
it,” spoke out one of the big girls. 

“Stuffing” was a very expressive word in the language of 


91 


MY BOOK HOUSE 


the school. Sarah Jane shook her head with a timid little 
smile, and hugged Lily Rosalie tighter. 

“Now do, Sarah Jane. I wouldn’t be stingy. Haven’t I 
just given you some sassafras?” 

That softened her a little. The spicy twang of the sassa- 
fras was yet on hex tongue. “I’m afraid you won’t give her 
back to me,” murmured she. 

“Yes, I will, honest. Now do, Sarah Jane.” 

It was against her better judgment; the big girl again raised 
her warning voice; but Joe West adroitly administered a little 
more flattery, and followed it up with entreaty, and Sarah Jane, 
yielding, finally put her precious little white linen baby into his 
big, grimy, out-reaching hands. 

“Oh, the pretty little sing!” said Joe West then, in an ab- 
surdly soft voice, and dandled it up and down. “What’s its 
name, Sarah Jane?” 

And Sarah Jane in her honesty and simplicity repeated that 
flowery name. 

“Lily Rosalie Violet May,” said Joe, after her, softly. And 
everybody giggled. 

A pink color spread all over Sarah Jane’s face and dimpled 
neck; tears sprang to her eyes. She felt as if they were poking 
fun at something sacred; her honest childish confidence was 
betrayed. “Give her back to me, Joe West!” she cried. 

But Joe only dandled it out of her reach, and then the bell 
rang. The children trooped back into the school-room, and 
Joe quietly slipped the doll into his pocket and marched gravely 
to his seat. 

Every time when Sarah Jane gazed around at him he was 
studying his geography with the most tireless industry. She 
could hardly wait for school to be done; when it was, she tried 
to get to Joe, but he was too quick for her. He had started 


92 


THROUGH FAIRY HALLS 



with his long stride down the road before she could get to the 
door. She called after him, but he appeared to have suddenly 
grown deaf. The other girls condoled with her, all but the big 
girl who had given the warning. “You’d ought to have listened 
to me,” said she, severely, as she tied on her sun-bonnet in the 
entry. “ I told you how it would be, letting a boy have hold of it.” 

Sarah Jane was not much comforted. She crept forlornly 
along towards home. Joe West’s house was on the way. There 
was a field south of it. As she came to this field she saw Joe 
out there with the bossy. This bossy, which was tethered to 
an old apple-tree, was cream-colored, with a white star on her 
forehead and a neck and head like a deer. She stood knee- 
deep in the daisies and clover, and looked like a regular picture- 
calf. If Sarah Jane had not been so much occupied with her 
own troubles, she would have stopped to gaze with pleasure 
at the pretty creature. Joe stood at her head and appeared to 
be teasing her. She twitched away from him, and lunged at 
him playfully with her budding horns. 


93 


MY BOOK HOUSE 


“Joe! Joe!” called quaking little Sarah Jane. 

Joe West gave one glance at her; his face flushed a burning 
red; then he left the bossy and went with long strides across 
the fields towards his home. The poor girl followed him. 

“Joe! Joe!” called the little despairing voice, but he never 
turned his head. 

Sarah Jane got past his house; then she sat down beside 
the road and wept. She did not know how Joe West, remorse- 
ful and penitent, was peeping at her from his window. She 
did not know of the tragedy which had just been enacted over 
there in the clover-field. The bossy calf, who was hungry for 
all strange articles of food, had poked her inquiring nose into 
Joe West’s jacket pocket, whence a bit of French calico 
emerged, had caught hold of it, and, in short, had then and there 
eaten up Lily Rosalie Violet May. Joe had made an attempt 
to pull her by her silken wig out of that greedy mouth, but the 
bossy calmly chewed on. 

It was just as well that Sarah Jane did not know it at the 
time. She had enough to bear — her own distress over the loss 
of the doll, and the reproaches of Serena and her mother. They 
agreed that the loss of the doll served her right for her disobe- 
dience, and that nothing should be said to Joe West. They 
also thought the affair too trivial to fuss over. Lily Rosalie 
even in her designer’s eyes was not what she was to Sarah Jane. 

“If you’d minded me you wouldn’t have lost it,” said Ser- 
ena. “I am not going to make you another.” 

Sarah Jane hung her head meekly. But in the course of 
three months she had another doll in a very unexpected and 
curious way. One evening there was a knock on the side door, 
and when it was opened there was no one there, but on the step 
lay a big package directed to Sarah Jane. It contained a real 
bought doll, with a china head and a cloth body, who was 


94 


THROUGH FAIRY HALLS 

gorgeously and airly attired in pink tarlatan with silver span- 
gles. The memory of Lily Rosalie paled. 

There was great wonder and speculation. Nobody dreamed 
how poor Joe West had driven cows from pasture, and milked, 
and chopped wood, out of school-hours, and taken every cent 
he had earned and bought this doll to atone for the theft of Lily 
Rosalie Violet May. 

Sarah Jane’s mother declared that she should not carry this 
doll, no matter whence it came, to school, and she never did 
but once — that was on her birthday, and she teased so hard, 
and promised not to let any one take her, that her mother con- 
sented. At recess Sarah Jane was again the centre of attrac- 
tion. She turned that wonderful pink tarlatan lady round and 
round before the admiring eyes; but when Joe West, meek and 
mildly conciliatory, approached the circle, she clutched her 
tightly and turned her back on him. 

“I’m not going to have Joe West steal another doll,” said 
she. And Joe colored and retreated. 

Years afterwards, when Joe was practising law in the city, 
and came home for a visit, and Sarah Jane was so grown-up 
that she wore a white muslin hat with rosebuds, and a black 
silk mantilla, to church, she knew the whole story, and thev 
had a laugh over it. 

IN THE LANE * 

Madison Cawein 

When the hornet hangs in the hollyhock, 

And the brown bee drones i’ the rose, 

And the west is a red-streaked four-o’ -clock, 

And the summer is near its close — 

It’s — Oh, for the gate and the locust lane 
And dusk and dew and home again! 

♦Used by the courteous permission of Madison Cawein, son 
publishers, The Macmillan Company. 



of the author, and the 


95 


MY BOOK HOUSE 



Witter Bynner 


“Hey, I’ve found some money-wort, 
Some day I’ll be rich! 

Or I wonder if it’s checkerberry? 

I don’t know which is which. 

“Look, don’t touch that blade of grass. 
Just keep away from it! 

For see that frothy, bubbly ball? 

That’s snake-spit! 

“Cover your lips, the darning-needle 
Loves to sew ’em up! — 

Who likes butter? Lift your chin — 
Here’s a buttercup. 


“She loves me — she loves me not — 
I wish that I knew why 
It always comes a different way 
Every time I try. 


“How many children? Here you are — 
You can have three blows — 

And you don’t want many children. 

For you have to buy ’em clo’es. 


. 1 . 


^Quoted by the courteous permission of the Author and the Publishers, Frederick A. 
Stokes Company. 

96 


THROUGH FAIRY HALLS 



“Now we can take the stems, see. 

And wet ’em into curls 

And stick ’em in our hair and run 

And make believe we’re girls. 

“D’ye ever whistle a blade of grass? 

Look, I got a fat one . . . 

You slit it, see? Here’s one for you — 
There’s no snake-spit on that one. 

“Aren’t big people funny 
That they don’t want to play? 

And some of ’em don’t like ice-cream — 

I couldn’t be that way. 

“They just sit round and talk and talk — 
O’course their hands are clean. 

But they make us wash ours all the time, 
I couldn’t be that mean. 

“No, honestly I couldn’t, 

Could you? I’d sooner die. 

We’ll dig some worms tomorrow 
And go fishin’l Goo’-by!” 



97 


MY BOOK HOUSE 


A CREDIT TO THE SCHOOL* 
Dikken Zwilgmeyer 

Translated from the Norwegian by Emilie Poulsson 
Johnny Blossom was walking home from 
school. He carried his head high; his tumed- 
up, freckled nose was held proudly in the air; 
his cap hung on the back of his head. Both 
hands were in his pockets, and his loud whist- 
ling waked the echoes as he strode through 
Jensen Alley. Perfectly splendid monthly re- 
port! Of course he knew it, word for word, and 
he said over to himself again, as he had many 
times: 

“John has lately been more industrious. 
With his excellent ability he is now a credit 
to the school.” 

This was signed with nothing less than the Principal’s name. 
Not just a teacher’s — no, thank you! A credit to the school. 
The whistling grew louder and more piercing. A credit to the 
school. He was going straight to Father with this report, and 
would lay it right under Father’s nose. 

Well, he had been industrious. He had gone over every 
lesson five times, and he could rattle off all the exception in his 
German grammar and all the mountains in Asia, even tL . e 
with the awfully hard names. 

Really, it was rather pleasant to know your lessons well and 
rank with the good scholars. Now he could be able to crc over 
Asta. She often had to sit the whole afternoon with her fingers 
in her ears, mumbling and studying, and even then couk; 
get her lessons sometimes, and would cry; but, of cou.se, .?• 
was only a girl. 

He would take this report to Uncle Isaac of Kingtho tou . 

★From Johnny Blossom. Used by permission of the publishers, The Pilr . i us 

98 



THROUGH FAIRY HALLS 


Uncle Isaac was always questioning and probing to find out 
how he got on at school. Now he should see! Sharp whistling 
again pierced the air. 

Another wonderfully interesting thing was that “Goodwill 
of Luckton” had arrived. He had seen it at Frosberg’s wharf 
when he was going to school. At this thought Johnny Blossom 
broke into a run. Darting through the little gate to their own 
back yard, he burst into the entry and, in the same headlong 
fashion, into the dining room. The family was already at the table. 

“Here is my monthly report and ‘Goodwill of Luckton’ has 
come,” exclaimed Johnny. 

Father and mother looked at the report. “Very good, John,” 
said Father; and Johnny felt Mother’s gentle hand stroking 
his hair. 

“But what is it that has come?” 

“ ‘Goodwill of Luckton’, of course.” 

Johnny was gulping his soup with great haste. 

“Express yourself clearly and eat properly.” 

Everything had to be so proper to suit Father. 

“The apple boat, the one Mr. Lind and Mrs. Lind own, you 
know — that comes every autumn.” 

Yes, the apple boat. It was painted green as it had been 
last year; the sails were patched; the poorest apples lay in heaps 
on the deck, the medium sort were in bags, and the best apples 
were in baskets. In the midst of this tempting abundance Mrs. 
Lind, who was uncommonly stout, usually sat knitting. When 
her husband was up in town delivering apples Mrs. Lind took 
care of the boat, the apples, and Nils and everything. Nils, 
their son, was more to look after than all the rest put together 
for he was the worst scalawag to be found along the whole coast. 

John kept on eating and talking. “Nils is a bad boy, Mother. 
When he talks to his mother, he keeps the side of his face toward 


99 


MY BOOK HOUSE 


her perfectly sober; but he makes faces with the side toward us. 
It is awfully funny and we laugh; and Mrs. Lind thinks we are 
laughing at her, and then she scolds, and oh! her scolding is so 
funny!” 

Shortly after dinner Johnny Blossom was out in the wood- 
shed whittling a boat. How delightful and how queer that he 
should be “a credit to the school”! He would be awfully indus- 
trious now every single day; go over every lesson six times, at 
least. 

This boat that he was making was going to be a fine one — 
Johnny Blossom held it out and peered sharply at it, first length- 
wise, then sidewise — the finest boat any one had ever whittled. 
Every one who saw it would say, “Who made that beautiful, 
graceful boat?” Well, here was the boy who could do it! 

One of these days he must carve a big ship about half a yard 
long and make it an exact copy of a real ship. 

Johnny Blossom lost himself in wondering whether, when 
it was finished, he shouldn’t take the ship to school to show to 
the Principal! If he did, the Principal would of course, praise 
him very much, for it would be an extraordinarily well-shaped, 
handsome ship. 

Yes, Johnny Blossom decided that he would take it to school 
for the Principal to see. It should be painted and have real 
sails. Oh, dear! Then he would have to ask Asta to hem the 
sails! Horrid tease as she was, she sewed remarkably well. 
Girls weren’t good for much else. 

How would it be to make a sloop next — one exactly like the 
“Goodwill of Luckton”? 

At this he threw down the boat which was to be so wonder- 
fully graceful and rushed off toward the wharf. How stupid 
of him to stay at home whittling when the “Goodwill of Luck- 
ton” had come! 


IOO 


THROUGH FAIRY HALLS 



Of course there were several boys hanging around there — 
Aaron, Stephen, and Carl. Otherwise not even a cat was to be 
seen. Streets and wharf were deserted in the quiet noon hour. 
Mrs. Lind sat nodding upon the deck. Nils lounged on some bags 
at the front of the boat, amusing himself making faces. Mr. 
Lind was probably up in the town doing errands. 

“Give us an apple,” whispered Stephen to Nils. Nils did 
not answer, but gave Stephen a sly look and then made a hideous 
face. 

“Throw some a, shore,” suggested Johnny Blossom. 

“Just one apiece,” whispered Carl. 

“Well, don’t then, you miser!” said Aaron. 

Suddenly Nils, with a slyer look than usual on his sly face, 
went down into the cabin. A minute after he came stamping 
up again. 

“Mother, Mother! The coffee is boiling over. Hurry!” 

Mrs. Lind waddled hastily across the deck and squeezed 
herself down the narrow stairway. 


MY BOOK HOUSE 


“Come now!” called Nils guardedly to the boys on shore. 
“Come now! Hurry up and take some apples.” 

The boys on the wharf did not wait to be called again but 
jumped upon the deck and rushed at the bags of fruit. 

“Mother, Mother!” roared Nils. “Hurry! There are thieves 
at the apples! Oh, hurry!” 

In an incredibly short time Mrs. Lind had come upstairs, 
and there stood Mr. Lind also, exactly as if he had shot up out 
of the ground. 

Nils declared loUdly: “Before I knew a thing about it, these 
boys rushed on board and began grabbing some of the best 
apples.” 

Oh, how Mr. Lind and his wife scolded as they seized the 
astounded boys! Mr. Lind held two of them and Mrs. Lind 
two — she had a remarkably strong grip — while Nils flew after 
a policeman. The frightened boys cried and begged to be set 
free. A crowd gathered on the wharf in no time. 

Soon the policeman came. “You will have to go with me to 
the police station,” said he to the boys. They tried to explain 
that Nils had invited them on board, but it availed nothing. 
“You go with me to the police station,” was the only reply the 
policeman made to anything they said. 

Oh, but it was horrid, having to go along the streets with him! 
Nils should have his pay for getting them into this trouble! At 
the police station their names were recorded and then the boys 
were allowed to go. Johnny Blossom, shamefaced and troubled, 
ran straight home. 

In the afternoon the policeman called to talk with Father. 
Father was very serious and Mother looked frightfully worried. 
Sister Asta stared with open mouth. John had a bitter time of 
it while the matter was being settled, and afterward Asta’s teas- 
ing voice followed him everywhere as she kept calling out: 


102 


THROUGH FAIRY HALLS 


“Credit to the scho-ol! Great credit! Wonderful credit! Credit 
to the scho-ol!” 

Oh, how horrid, how horrid everything was! Well, he 
wouldn’t go out any more to-day, that he wouldn’t; he would 
stay in his room with the door locked. He had been so delighted 
with his report, and now even that gave him no pleasure. Of 
course he couldn’t go to Uncle Isaac with it after this disgrace. 

A sudden thought struck him. He would not keep the report 
any longer. To have “A credit to the school” upon it was too 
embarrassing after what had happened. 

He had not stolen apples, he really had not; but he had been 
taken to the police station and his name, John Blossom, was 
written on the police records. Though he had not stolen apples, 
he had known very well that Mr. Lind and his wife would be 
angry if boys went on board and helped themselves to apples, 
even if Nils had said they might. 

Pshaw! Everything was horrid. The boys at school 
would soon knpw all about it and then they would tease just as 
Asta did. No, he would not keep the report; he would give it 
back to the Principal; that was just what he would do. So 
Johnny Blossom, saying nothing at home of his intention, went 
with determined step to the Principal’s house. His cap, instead 
of being set jauntily far back on his head, was jammed well down 
over his eyes. 

“Is the Principal at home?” 

“Yes, come in.” 

The Principal was a large man with a thick, blond beard and 
sharp, blue eyes. 

“Good day, Johnny! What did you want to see me about?” 

“It is horrid, but”— great searching first in one pocket of 
his trousers, then in the other— “but if you will please take this 
report back” — 

103 


MY BOOK HOUSE 

“Take it back? What do you mean, John?” 

“Why, because it says here he is a credit to the school, and 
he isn’t that — not now.” 

“What is that you say? Speak out, my boy.” * 

The boy looked very little as he stood with his knees shaking 
before the big Principal. 

“Because— because his name has been written in the police 
records today, and the policeman took him there, and so it was 
horrid that this report should say he was a credit” — 

“Come, John, tell me about it from the beginning.” 

“Why, Nils of the ‘Goodwill of Luckton’ got his mother to 
go down-stairs and then he called us boys to come aboard and get 
some apples; and when we went he told his mother there were 
thieves on board; and he called the policeman.” 

“Nils asked you to come on board?” 

“Oh, yes; but for all that I knew Mr. and Mrs. Lind would be 
angry. I knew that perfectly well. But I went, and then I wasn’ t 
a credit to the school; so if you will please take this report back”— 

There was a short silence. 

“I think you may keep the report,” said the Principal at last. 
“For you will surely not do anything of the kind again, Johnny 
Blossom.” 

“No. I shan’t have to be taken up by a policeman ever any 
more.” Johnny shook his head energetically. “And I’m going 
to study hard. Thank you.” 

At the door he repeated his ‘ ‘thank you” as he bowed himself 
out. 

When he was in the street he put the precious report into his 
pocket, whistling joyously a beautiful tune that his mother often 
played. Who cared for any one’s teasing now? Even the boys 
might try it if they liked, for he was ready for them. The Princi- 
pal knew all there was to know. Awfully kind man, that Principal ! 

104 


THROUGH FAIRY HALLS 



A BOY'S SONG 
James Hogg 

Where the pools are bright and deep. 
Where the gray trout lies asleep. 

Up the river and o’er the lea. 

That’s the way for Billy and me. 

Where the blackbird sings the latest, 
Where the hawthorn blooms the sweetest. 
Where the nestlings chirp and flee, 

That’s the way for Billy and me. 

Where the mowers mow the cleanest, 
Where the hay lies thick and greenest, — 
There to trace the homeward bee, 

That’s the way for Billy and me. 

Where the hazel bank is steepest, 

Where the shadow lies the deepest, 

Where the clustering nuts fall free, 

That’s the way for Billy and me. 



105 


MY BOOK HOUSE 



THE LUCK BOY OF TOY VALLEY* 

Katherine Dunlap Cather 

In a chalet high up among the Austrian mountains, blue- 
eyed Franz was very unhappy because his mother and brother 
Johan were going to Vienna and he had to stay at home with 
his old grandfather. He bit his lips to keep back the tears as 
he watched the packing of the box that was to carry their cloth- 
ing. Then his mother tried to comfort him. 

“Never mind, lad,” she said. “I’ll send you a present from 
Vienna, and we’ll call it a ‘luck gift’ and hope it will bring good 
luck. If it does you’ll be a lucky boy.” 

He smiled even if he did feel sad. He had often heard of 
luck children, for among the Tyrolean peasants there were many 
stories of those who had been led by fairies to have such won- 
derful good fortune that ever afterward they were spoken of as 
the elf-aided, or “Glucks Kinder,” and it was so delightful to 
think about being one of them that he forgot his sorrow. Of 
course it would be very fine to travel down to Vienna and go 
into the service of a rich noble there, as his mother and brother 
were to do, but it would be still better to be a “Glucks Kind,” 
and such things sometimes did happen. So he did not feel sad 
any more, but whistled and sang and helped with the packing. 

★Used by the courteous permission of David C. Cook Publishing .Co. and the author. 

106 


THROUGH FAIRY HALLS 


Early next morning the post chaise rattled up to the door, 
and Johan and the mother drove away. Franz watched them 
go down the winding white road, calling after them in sweet 
Tyrolean words of endearment until they were out of sight. Then 
he went back into the hut and began to sandpaper some blocks 
that his grandfather needed for his work. The old man was a 
maker of picture frames, all carved and decorated with like- 
nesses of mountain flowers, and these, when sent to Innsbruck 
and Vienna, brought the money that gave him his living. The 
figures were too fine and difficult for Franz to carve, but he could 
lend a hand at fetching blocks and sandpapering. He worked 
with a vim, for Tyrolean boys think it a disgrace to shirk, but 
all the while his thoughts were on the luck gift. 

“I wonder what it will be?” he said to his grandfather. They 
took turns at guessing, until it was time to feed the goats and 
house the chickens for the night. 

A week later the man who had driven Johan and his mother 
away came by on his return from Vienna, and Franz fairly flew 
out to get his gift. 

“It is something very big,” he called to the old frame maker 
as he took a bulging bag. “See, it is stuffed full!” And he 
expected to find something very wonderful. 

But when he opened it, he thought it wasn’t wonderful at 
all. There was a blue velvet jacket, trimmed with gold braid 
and fastened with glittering buttons, such as Tyrolean boys 
wore in those days, and in one of the pockets he found a shining 
knife. 

“Well, of all things!” he exclaimed as he held them up for 
his grandfather to see. “It’s a splendid jacket, and the knife 
is a beauty, but I don’t see where the luck part comes in.” 

But Hals Berner was old and wise, and a knowing smile 
played over his wrinkled face as he spoke. “It won’t be the 

107 


MY BOOK HOUSE 



first time luck has hidden in a knife,” he said, as he bent over 
his carving. 

Franz did not know what he meant. He had always had a 
knife, for being of a carver’s family he was taught to whittle 
when he was a very little fellow, and he had become remarkably 
skillful for one of his years. But no wonderful good fortune 
had come to him, and he was very sure that although each 
of the presents was nice, neither would bring luck, and he sent 
that word to Johan. But the brother wrote back from the city, 
“It will surely turn out to be a luck gift, Franz. Just wait and 
see.” And still the boy wondered. 

Winter came and icy winds blew down from the peaks. There 
was no word from Vienna now, for the valley was shut in by a 
glittering wall, and travel over the snow-drifted passes was im- 
possible. There were other boys in the village, but each had his 
work indoors, and there was little time to play, so Franz had no 
chance for games. He helped his grandfather part of the day 
and sometimes whittled for his own amusement. It was a lonely 
life there in the hut, with just the old frame maker, who was 
often too busy to talk, so Franz was glad to do something to keep 
him busy. Now he made rings and tops and then just fantastic 
sticks or blocks. 

One day, as he whittled, his grandfather said, “Why don’t 
you make an animal, Franz?” 

The boy looked up in surprise. “I don’t think I can,” he 
answered. 


108 



THROUGH FAIRY HALLS 

“Not unless you try,” came the reply. “But if you do that 
you may surprise yourself.” 

Franz hated to have any one think he was afraid to make 
an attempt, so he exclaimed, “I wonder if I could make a sheep?” 

“Begin and see,” the old man advised. 

The boy went to work. At first it was discouraging. After 
many minutes of whittling there was little to suggest what he 
had in mind. But then, with an occasional turn of the knife 
by the frame maker, and now and then a bit of advice, the boy 
began to see that a sheep would grow out of the block, and when 
it did he felt like a hero who had won a battle. 



109 


MY BOOK HOUSE 

“It wasn’t a bit hard, was it lad?” Hals Berner asked when 
it was finished. 

And Franz agreed that it was not. 

That was the beginning, and every day thereafter Franz 
worked at his whittling, and animal after animal grew under his 
knife. He was so busy he did not have time to be lonely, and 
had quite forgotten how sad he had felt over having to stay at 
home. It was such fun to see the figures come out of the wood 
and feel that he had made them. Of course they were crude, 
and not half so handsome as those his grandfather could have 
made; but anyone could tell what they were, and that was worth 
a great deal. 

By spring he had a whole menagerie, and when his mother 
came home she found he had been a busy boy, and a happy 
one as well. 

“All made with the luck knife,” Johan said as he looked over 
the work. 

“So grandfather says,” Franz answered. “It’s a splendid 
knife, but I don’t see where the luck comes in.” 

And again the knowing smile went over the old man’s face. 

One day soon afterward his mother had word from the man 
who had been her employer in Vienna that his little son was not 
well and he was sending him to regain his health in the mountain 
air. A week later the child arrived with his nurse, and the first 
thing that attracted his attention was Franz’s menagerie. 

“Oh! oh!” he exclaimed, “dogs, cats, sheep, goats, lions, 
elephants, and all made of wood! I want them.” 

“He means that he wants to buy them,” his nurse explained. 
“Will you sell them, Franz?” 

For a minute the boy hesitated. That menagerie had meant 
many months of whittling, and he loved every animal in it, and if 
Johan hadn’t interrupted, probably he would have refused. 


no 


THROUGH FAIRY HALLS 


“Why, Franz,” the brother exclaimed, “it begins to look like 
a luck knife after all.” 

That put a thought into his mind that caused him to answer, 
“Yes, take them. I can make some more.” 

So, when the child went back to Vienna he took a wooden 
menagerie from the Tyrolean mountains. Other Viennese child- 
ren, seeing it, wanted to possess one, and orders began to pour 
in to Franz, far more than he could fill. Then other villagers 
took up the work, until all over the valley people were making 
animals and toys. 

The work grew to be a big industry, and toys from the Grodner 
Thai were sent all over Germany, and even to the lands beyond. 
One generation after another went on with the work, and although 
it is two hundred years since Franz began it, the craft continues 
there to this day. At Christmas time shops in every land are 
filled with toys from the Tyrolean mountains, and although 
they do not know the story, thousands of children have been 
happier because of a peasant boy’s whittling. 

So out of the bag sent back from Vienna there came in truth 
a luck gift, and it wasn’t the fine jacket either, but the knife 
with which Franz whittled his first sheep. The boy had found out 
that luck doesn’t mean something sent by fairies, but the doing 
a thing so well that it brings a rich reward, and although he lived 
to be a very old man, he never got over being grateful that his 
mother made him stay behind when she and Johan went to the 
city. 

The little valley among the Austrian Alps is still called Grod- 
ner Thai on the maps, but because of the animals and toys that 
have come out of it, it is almost as well known by another name. 
If you are good guessers you can surely tell what it is, especially 
if you know that the peasants still speak of the lad who made 
he first menagerie there as the Luck Boy of Toy Valley. 


hi 



THE DUTY THAT WAS NOT PAID* 

Katherine Dunlap Cather 

More than a hundred years ago a man and hjs two children 
were journeying from their home in Salzburg to Vienna. They 
traveled by the Danube boat, and Marianne, the sister, stood 
by the rail tossing pebbles into the water and watching the tur- 
bulent river swallow them up. Her dress was worn almost 
threadbare, but her face was so sweet and her eyes were so large 
and bright that she looked pretty for all her shabbiness. 

Just behind her on the deck her father and brother were 
talking. “If we make some money in the city you’ll buy sister 
a new dress, won’t you, Father?” little Wolfgang asked. 

Marianne whirled and started toward him. She knew that 
was sure to make her father sad, and she called, “Don’t coax, 
Wolfgang. My dress will do very well until we can afford to 
buy another, and a new one will seem all the nicer because of 
my having worn this one so long.” 

Her brother turned his big, earnest eyes upon her, and said 
“But, Marianne, I know you want one. I heard you wish for it 
by the evening star, and last night you put it in your prayer.” 

Father Mozart turned from them with a sad look on his face, 

♦Used by special arrangement with the authored the publishers, David C. Cook Publishing 

1 12 


THROUGH FAIRY HALLS 

and walked up and down the deck, wishing very much he could 
do what Wolfgang asked. But he was just a poor orchestra 
conductor with an income so small he had to stretch it hard to 
provide food and shelter for his family. Marianne must wear the 
shabby frock until better times began, which he hoped would 
be soon. They were to give some concerts in the Austrian 
capital, and maybe in that rich, music-loving city would earn 
enough to make them more comfortable than they had been 
before. But until then they must not spend a penny save what 
was needed for food and shelter, because the customs fee on 
the harp they carried must be paid, and that would reduce their 
little fund to a very small amount. 

Wolfgang, too, thought about it as the boat crept in and 
out between the hills, and wondered much if there was no way 
in which Marianne might have the dress before they played in 
Vienna. His old teacher in Salzburg had often told him that 
there is a way out of every difficulty if one is clever enough to 
think of it, and there must be out of this. His own suit was bright 
and new, for his birthday was just past and it had been his uncle’s 
gift. But Marianne was a very shabby little girl, and he knew 
she was unhappy though she was brave and sweet about it. 

They were gliding past the ruins of the castle that once, 
men said, had been the prison of Richard the First, England’s 
Lion-Hearted King, when his enemies took him captive on his 
return from the holy wars. Often in the twilight time at 
Salzburg, as they waited for the father to come from his work, 
the mother told them his tale. 

“He was very brave and wise, too,” the boy thought as he 
looked at the crumbling pile. “He would have found a way for 
Marianne to have a new dress if she had been his sister.” 

Was it the prayer being answered, or just the fulfillment of 
the wish made by the evening star? For while he thought, an 

1 13 


MY BOOK HOUSE 


idea came into his head. It was a good idea, it seemed to him, 
so good that it made him smile. If it worked out, and he 
believed it would, Marianne might have the dress she wanted so 
much, because then his father would have more money to spend. 

Just to the south they could see the great spire of St. 
Stephen’s, a tall, gray finger against the sky, which told that 
Vienna was not far away. As it grew nearer and nearer, looming 
up bigger and plainer before them, Wolfgang thought more and 
more of his idea, until when they reached the mooring his eyes 
were dancing and his cheeks were aflame. His father believed 
the thought of seeing the great capital had excited him, but 
that was not it at all. He had a secret plan and could hardly 
wait until he knew whether or not it would work out. 

The journey was ended and the people were going ashore. 
“Please loosen the cover, Father,” he said as Leopold Mozart 
carried the harp toward the customs gate. 

“Ah, you are proud of it!” the man answered with a smile. 

Wolfgang did not reply, thinking what a poor guesser his 
father was. He watched him as he set the instrument down 
and undid the wrapping, bringing the polished frame and glis- 
tening strings into full view. Then he went over and took his 
place beside the harp as the customs officer drew near, and 
Marianne came and stood beside him. She had forgotten all 
about her dress in her eagerness to find out how much duty they 
would have to pay. 

“What have you to declare?” the man asked. 

“Only a harp,” Leopold Mozart answered, as he laid his 
hand on their one treasure. 

“It is a beautiful instrument and valuable,” the official said 
as he looked at it, and named as the price of the duty an amount 
so big as to cut their little hoard almost in half. 

Father Mozart’s face grew very serious, and the merriment 

114 


THROUGH FAIRY HALLS 


went out of Marianne’s eyes. But Wolfgang did not worry. 
He still had that idea in his mind, and believed it would work out. 

Leopold Mozart reached into his pocket for the little sack 
containing his savings, but it was not necessary to open it, for 
just as he was about to do so, Wolfgang started to play. The 
customs officer turned with a start and listened, and the people, 
gathered there, forgot all about duty charges as they crowded 
around the little musician. His tiny hands swept the strings as 
if his fingers had some magic power, and the melody they made 
was sweeter than ever heard on that old wharf. For five minutes, 
ten, he kept at it, and there was not a whisper or a murmur, 
only a sort of breathless surprise that one so young could play 
so wonderfully. 

“What!” one exclaimed as he finished, “a lad of his age to 
perform like that!” 

“Yes,” the father answered with a smile, “he does well at 
the harp.” 

“Amazing,” the officer murmured, “I’ve heard many a good 
harpist in my day, but never anything sweeter than that.” 

Wolfgang smiled. The idea was working out, and he was 
very glad. Already he had visions of a happy sister in a hand- 
some new gown, and turning again to the instrument, he played 
even more beautifully than before, for the gladness that crept 
into his heart was creeping also into the music. 

For some minutes he picked the strings, while the people 
listened as if held in a spell, until the father said, “We must go 
now, for it is getting late, and we have yet to find lodgings in 
the city.” And he handed the money to the officer. 

But the man shook his head. “No,” he said, and his eyes 
were very tender. “A boy who can give as much pleasure as that 
deserves something. Keep the money and buy a present for him .” 

As Wolfgang heard the words he gave a bound. “Father,” 
115 


MY BOOK HOUSE 


he exclaimed, with sparkling eyes, “buy the dress for Marianne. 
You can do it now, since you have saved the customs money.” 

The officer looked at him in amazement. “He is a wonderful 
lad, ^ truly,” he exclaimed, “and as kind as he is wonderful!” 

“Yes,” came the low reply. “He has wanted nothing so 
much as a new dress for his sister.” 


And she did get it, too, a beautiful one of soft, bright red, 
all trimmed with shining buttons. Wolfgang danced with delight 
when he saw it, and there was no happier child in all Vienna.' 

They gave many concerts there, some before the royal family; 
and Maria Theresa, the empress, became greatly attached to' 
both brother and sister, gave them handsome clothes and beau- 
tiful gifts, and forgot all about affairs of state while Wolfgang 
played. She called him the “little sorcerer,” and agreed with 
the customs officer that he was a wonderful child. 

Then, after some weeks, they went back to the home in 
Salzburg, where the boy kept on at his music, doing such mar- 
velous things that his fame traveled far. He grew to be the 
great master, Mozart, at whose glorious music the world still 
wonders, and he was a generous 
and sweet-souled man, just as he 
was a big-hearted and thoughtful ' 
child. Many lovely acts are told — 
of him, but none that shows his 2=^ 
kindness and tenderness in a more 
delightful way than when as a boy 
on the Vienna wharf he charmed 
the customs officer and all others 
who heard, and Marianne got the 
dress for which she had wished 
with the duty money that wasn’t 
paid. 



116 


THROUGH FAIRY HALLS 



THE STORY OF A BEAVER* 

William Davenport Hulbert 

A broad, flat tail came down on the water with a whack that 
sent the echoes flying back and forth across the pond, and its 
owner ducked his head, arched his back, and dived to the bottom. 
It was a very curious tail, for besides being so oddly paddle-shaped, 
it was covered with what looked like scales, but were really sections 
of hard, horny, blackish-gray skin. Except its owner’s relations, 
there was no one else in all the world who had one like it. But 
the strangest thing about it was the many different ways in which 
he used it. Just now it was his rudder, steering him as he swam 
under water — and a very good rudder, too. 

In a moment his little brown head reappeared, and he and his 
brothers and sisters went chasing each other round and round 
the pond, ducking and diving and splashing, raising such a com- 
motion that they sent the ripples washing all along the grassy 
shores, and having the jolliest kind of a time. It isn’t the usual 
thing for young beavers to be out in broad daylight, but all this 
happened in the good old days before the railways came, when 
there were fewer men in northern Michigan than there are now. 

When the youngsters wanted a change they climbed up onto 
a log, and nudged and. hunched each other, poking their noses 
into one another’s fat little sides, and each trying to shove his 
brother or sister back into the water. By and by they scrambled 
out on the bank, and then, when their fur had dripped a little, 
they set to work to comb it. 

*From Forest Neighbors. Used by the permission of Doubleday, Page & Co. 

ii 7 


MY BOOK HOUSE 

Up they sat on their hind legs and tails— the tail was a stool 
now, you see and scratched their heads and shoulders with the 
long brown claws of their small, black, hairy hands. Then the 
hind feet came up one at a time and combed and stroked their 
sides till the moisture was gone and the fur was soft and smooth 
and glossy as velvet. 

After that they had to have another romp. They were not 
half as graceful on land as they had been in the water. In fact 
they were not graceful at all, and the way they stood around on 
their hind legs, and shuffled, and pranced, and wheeled like baby 
hippopotami, and slapped the ground with their tails, was one 
of the funniest sights in the neart of the woods. And the funniest 
and liveliest of them all was the one who owned that tail. He 
was the one whom I shall call the Beaver — with a big B. 

But even young beavers will sometimes grow tired of play, 
and at last they all lay down on the grass in the warm, quiet 
sunshine of the autumn afternoon. The wind had gone to sleep, 
the pond glittered like steel in its bed of grassy beaver-meadow,’ 
the friendly wood stood guard all around, and it was a very good 
time for five furry little babies to take a nap. 

The city in which the Beaver was bom was a very old one, 
and may have been the oldest in North America. Nobody knows 
when the beavers first began to build the dam that stretched 
across the stream and backed the water up until it spread out 
across the valley in a broad, quiet pond. It was probably 
centuries ago, and for all we can tell it may have been thousands 
of years back in the past. 

Family after family of beavers had worked on that dam, 
building it a little higher and a little higher, a little longer and a 
little longer, year after year; and raising the round domes of their 
houses as the pond rose around them. Their city streets, like 
those of Venice, were mostly of water, and they themselves’ were 

118 


THROUGH FAIRY HALLS 


navigators from their earliest youth, and took to the water as 
naturally as ducks or Englishmen. They were lumbermen, too, 
and when the timber was all out from along the shores of the pond, 
they dug canals across the low, level, marshy ground, back to 
the higher land where the birch and the poplar still grow, and 
floated the branches and the smaller logs down the water-ways 
to the pond. In this way they stored up a supply of food for 
winter, for the beaver’s favorite meal is made of tender branches 
and the bark of trees. 

And there were land roads, as well as canals, for here and 
there narrow trails crossed the swamp, showing where one family 
after another of busy workers had passed back and forth between 
the felled trees and the water’s edge. Streets, canals, public 
works, dwellings, lumbering, rich stores laid up for the winter — 
what more do you want to make a city, even if the houses are few 
in number, and the population somewhat smaller than that of 
London or New York? 

The first year of our Beaver’s life was an easy one, especially 
the winter, when there was little for anyone to do except to eat, to 
sleep, and now and then to fish for the roots of the yellow water- 
lily in the soft mud at the bottom of the pond. During that 
season not only was he increasing in size and weight, but he was 
storing up strength for the work that lay before him. It would 
take much muscle to force those long yellow teeth of his through 
the hard, tough flesh of the maple or the birch or the poplar. 
It would take vigor and push to roll the heavy billets of wood over 
the grass-tufts to the edge of the water. So it was well for the 
youngster that for a time he had nothing to do but grow. 

But spring came at last. Though the Beaver had many and 
many a fine romp with his brothers and sisters, still he began to 
learn to be a little useful in the world, and to do the sort of things 
that his father and mother did. 

1 19 


MY BOOK HOUSE 


Now, on a dark autumn night, behold the young Beaver toiling 
with might and main. His parents have felled a tree, and it is 
his business to help them cut up the best portions and carry them 
home. He gnaws off a small branch, seizes the butt end between 
his teeth, swings it over his shoulder, and makes for the water, 
keeping his head twisted around to the right or left so that the end 
of the branch may trail on the ground behind him. Sometimes 
he even rises on his hind legs, and walks almost upright, with his 
broad, strong tail for a prop to keep him from tipping over back- 
ward if his load happens to catch on something. Arrived at the 
canal or at the edge of the pond, he jumps in and swims for town, 
still carrying the branch over his shoulder, and finally leaves it 
on the growing pile in front of his father’s lodge. Or perhaps the 
stick is too large and too heavy to be carried in such a way. In 
that case it must be cut into short billets and rolled to the water’s 
edge. This means he must push with all his might, and there are 
so many, many grass-tufts and little hillocks in the way! Some- 
times the billet rolls down into a hollow, and then it is very hard 
to get it out again. He works like a beaver, and pushes and shoves 
and toils with tremendous energy, but I am afraid that more than 
one choice stick never reaches the water. 



120 



THROUGH FAIRY HALLS 

These were his first tasks. Later on he learned to fell trees 
himself. Standing up on his hind legs and tail, with his hands 
braced against the trunk, he would hold his head sidewise, open 
his mouth wide, set his teeth against the bark, and bring his jaws 
together with a savage nip, that left a deep gash in the side of the 
tree. A second nip deepened the gash, and gave it more of a 
downward slant, and two or three more carried it still farther into 
the tough wood. Then he would choose a new spot a little farther 
down, and start a second gash, which was made to slant up towards 
the first. And when he thought they were both deep enough he 
would set his jaw firmly in the wood between them, and pull and 
jerk and twist at it until he had wrenched out a chip — a chip 
perhaps two inches long, and from an eighth to a quarter of an 
inch thick. He would make bigger ones when he grew to be bigger 
himself, but you musn’t expect too much at first. 

Chip after chip was tom out in this way, and gradually he 
would work completely around the tree. Then the groove was 
made deeper, and after awhile it would have to be broadened so 
that he could get his head farther into it. He seemed to think it 
was of immense importance to get the job done as quickly as 
possible, for he worked away with tremendous energy as if fell- 
ing that tree was the only thing in the world that was worth doing. 

Once in a while he would pause for a moment to feel of it with 
his hands, and to glance up at the top to see whether it was getting 
ready to fall. Several times he stopped long enough to take a re- 
freshing dip in the pond; but he always hurried back, and pitched 
in again harder than ever. In fact, he sometimes went at it so 
impetuously that he slipped and rolled over on his back. 

Little by little he dug away the tree’s flesh until there was 
nothing left but its heart. At last it began to sway and crash. 
The Beaver jumped aside to get out of the way. Hundreds and 
hundreds of small, tender branches, and delicious little twigs and 


121 


MY BOOK HOUSE 


buds came crashing down where he could cut them off and eat 
them or carry them away at his leisure. 

And so all the beavers in the city labored, and their labor 
brought its rich reward; everybody was busy and contented, and 
life was decidedly worth living. 



ROBERT OF LINCOLN* 
William Cullen Bryant 
Merrily swinging on brier and weed, 
Near to the nest of his little dame, 
Over the mountain-side or mead, 

Robert of Lincoln is telling his name: 
Bob-o’-link, bob-o’-link, 

Spink, spank, spink, 

Snug and safe is this nest of ours, 
Hidden among the summer flowers, 
Chee, chee, chee. 


Robert of Lincoln is gayly drest, 

Wearing a bright, black wedding-coat; 
White are his shoulders and white his crest. 
Hear him call, in his merry note, 
Bob-o’-link, bob-o’-link, 

Spink, spank, spink, 

Look what a nice new coat is mine, 

Sure there was never a bird so fine! 

Chee, chee, chee. 

*Used by permission of the publishers, D. Appleton & Co. 
122 


THROUGH FAIRY HALLS 



MUSIC-LOVING BEARS* 

Joaquin Miller 

A bear loves music better than he loves honey, and that is 
saying that he loves music better than he loves his life. 

We were going to mill, father and I, and Lyte Howard, in 
Oregon, about forty years ago, with ox-teams, a dozen or two 
bags of wheat, threshed with a flail and winnowed with a wagon 
cover, and were camped for the night by the Calipoola River; 
for it took two days to reach the mill. Lyte got his fiddle, keeping 
his gun, of course, close at hand. Pretty soon the oxen came 
down, came very close, so close that they almost put their cold, 
moist noses against the backs of our necks as we sat there on the 
ox-yokes or reclined in our blankets, around the crackling pine- 
log fire and listened to the wild, sweet strains that swept up and 
down and up till the very tree tops seemed to dance and quiver 
with delight. 

Then suddenly father seemed to feel the presence of some- 
thing or somebody strange, and I felt it, too. But the fiddler 
felt, heard, saw nothing but the divine, wild melody that made 
the very pine trees dance and quiver to their tips. It is strange 
how a man — I mean the natural man — will feel a presence long 
before he hears it or sees it. 

♦From True Bear Stories. Used by special arrangement with the publishers, 

Rand McNally & Company 


123 



MY BOOK HOUSE 

Father got up, turned about, put me behind him like, as an 
animal will its young, and peered back and down through the 
dense tangle of the deep river bank between two of the huge 
oxen which had crossed the plains with us, to the water’s edge; 
then he reached around and drew me to him with his left hand, 
pointing between the oxen sharp down the bank with his right 
forefinger. 

A bear! two bears! and another coming; one already more 
than half way across the great, mossy log that lay above the 
deep, sweeping waters of the Calipoola; and Lyte kept on, and 
the wild, sweet music leaped up and swept through the delighted 
and dancing boughs above. Then father reached back to the fire 
and thrust a long, burning bough deeper into the dying embers, 
and the glittering sparks leaped and laughed and danced and 
swept out and up and up as if to companion with the stars. Then 
Lyte knew. He did not hear, he did not see, he only felt; but 
the fiddle forsook his fingers and his chin in a second, and his 
gun was to his face with the muzzle thrust down between the 
oxen. And then my father’s gentle hand reached out, lay on that 
long, black, Kentucky rifle barrel, and it dropped down, slept 
once more at the fiddler’s side. And again the melodies; and 
the very stars came down, believe me, to listen, for they never 
seemed as big and so close by before. The bears sat down on 
their haunches at last, and one of them kept opening his mouth 
and putting out his red tongue, as if he really wanted to taste the 
music. Every now and then one of them would lift up a paw 
and gently tap the ground, as if to keep time with the music. 
And both my papa and Lyte said next day that those bears really 
wanted to dance. 

And that is all there is to say about that, except that my 
father was the gentlest gentleman I ever knew and his influence 
must have been boundless; for who ever before heard of any 


124 


THROUGH FAIRY HALLS 



hunter laying down his rifle with a family of fat black bears 
holding the little snow-white cross on their breasts almost within 
reach of its muzzle. 

The moon came up by and by, and the chin of the weary 
fiddler sank lower and lower, till all was still. The oxen lay down 
and ruminated, with their noses nearly against us. Then the 
coal-black bears melted away before the milk-white moon, and 
we slept there, with the sweet breath of the cattle, like incense, 
upon us. 


125 


MY BOOK HOUSE 


THE DANCE OF THE FOREST PEOPLE* 
From The Arkansaw Bear 
Albert Bigelow Paine 


Oh, there was a little boy and his name was Bo, 
Went out into the woods when the moon was low, 



And he met an Old Bear who was hungry for a snack, 
And the folks are still awaiting for Bosephus to come back. 



For the boy became the teacher of this kind and gentle creature, 
Who was faithful in his friendship and was watchful in his care. 



And they traveled on forever and they’ll never, never, sever, 
Bosephus and the fiddle and the Old — Black — Bear. 


HE camp fire had died down to a few red embers, and 
the big moon hanging on the tree-tops made all the 
world white and black, with one bright splash in the 
brook below. 

The little boy, Bosephus, and Horatio, the old black Bear, 
had finished their supper. 

While the Bear played on his fiddle the little boy had been 
watching a slim, moving shadow that seemed to have drifted 
out from among the heavier shadows into the half-lit open space 

*Taken from The Arkansaw Bear, copyrighted by Henry Altemus Company. Used by the 
kind permission of the publishers. 

126 




through fairy halls 



in *£2? of them - As the music ceased, it drifted back again. 

Play some more, Ratio,” he whispered. 

Again the Bear played and again the slim shadow appeared 
in the moonlight and presently another and another. Some of 
them were slender and graceful; some of them heavier and slower 
of movement. As the music continued they swung into a half 
circle and drew closer. Now and then the boy caught a glimpse 
of two shining sparks that kept time and movement with each. 
He could hardly breathe in his excitement. 

here, Ratio,” he whispered. Horatio did not stir, 
bh-h. he said, softly. “My friends — the forest people ” 
The Bear slackened the music a little as he spoke and the 
shadows wavered and drew away. Then he livened the strain 
and they trooped forward again eagerly. Just then the moon 
swung clear of the thick trees and the dancers were in its full 
flood. The boy watched them with trembling eagerness. 

A tall, cat-like creature, erect and graceful, swayed like a 
phantom in and out among the others and seemed to lead. As 
it came directly in front of the musicians it turned full front 
toward them. It was an immense gray panther. 

At any other time Bo would have screamed. Now he was 
only fascinated. Its step was perfect and its long tail waved 
behind it, like a silver plume, which the others followed. Two 
red foxes kept pace with it. Two gray ones, a little to one side, 
imitated their movements. In the background a family of three 
bears danced so awkwardly that Bo was inclined to laugh. 


127 


MY BOOK HOUSE 


“We will teach them to do better than that,” he whispered. 

Horatio nodded without pausing. The dancers separated, 
each group to itself, the gray panther in the foreground. Spell- 
bound, the boy watched the beautiful swaying creature. He 
had been taught to fear the “painter,” as it was called in Ark- 
ansaw, but he had no fear now. He almost felt that he must 
step out into that enchanted circle and join in the weird dance. 

New arrivals stole constantly out of the darkness to mingle 
in the merrymaking. A little way apart a group of rabbits 
skipped wildly together, while near them a party of capering 
wolves had forgotten their taste for blood. Two plump ’coons 
and a heavy-bodied ’possum, after trying in vain to keep up 
with the others, were content to sit side by side and look on. 
Other friends, some of whom the boy did not know, slipped out 
into the magic circle, and, after watching the others for a moment, 
leaped madly into the revel. The instinct of the old days had 
claimed them when the wild beasts of the forest and the wood 
nymphs trod measures to the pipes of Pan. The boy leaned 
close to the player. 

“The rest of it,” he whispered. “Play the rest of it!” 

“I am afraid. They have never heard it before.” 

“Play it! Play it!” commanded Bo, excitedly. 

There was a short, sharp pause at the end of the next bar, 
then a sudden wild dash into the second half of the tune. The 
prancing animals stopped as if by magic. For an instant they 
stood motionless, staring with eyes like coals. Then came a 
great rush forward, the gray panther at the head. The boy saw 
them coming, but could not move. 

“Sing!” shouted Horatio; “Sing!” 

For a second the words refused to come. Then they flooded 
forth in the moonlight. Bo could sing, and he had never sung 
as he did now. 


128 


THROUGH FAIRY HALLS 



“Oh, our singing, yes our singing, all our friends to us ’tis 
bringing, 

For it sets the woods to ringing, and the forest people know 



That we do not mean to harm them in their dancing, nor alarm 
them — 

We are seeking but to charm them with the sounds of long ago. 


At the first notes of the boy’s clear voice the animals hesitated; 
then they crept up slowly and gathered about to listen. They 
did not dance to this new strain. Perhaps they wanted to learn 
it first. Bo sang on and on. The listening audience never 
moved. Then Horatio played very softly, and the singer lowered 
his voice until it became like a far off echo. When Bo sang like 
this he often closed his eyes. He did so now. 

The music sank lower and lower, until it died away in a 
whisper. The boy ceased singing and opening his eyes gazed 
about him. Here and there he imagined he heard a slight rustle 
in the leaves, but the gray panther was gone. The frisking 
rabbits and the capering wolves had vanished. The red and 


gray foxes, the awk 
of that frolicking 
back into the shadows, 
peer into the dim 
with his tried and 



ward bears and the rest 
throng had melted 
So far as he could 
forest he was alone 
faithful friend. 


129 


MY BOOK HOUSE 

LITTLE NELL AND MRS. JARLEY’S WAX WORKS* 
Charles Dickens 

T was not a shabby, dingy, dusty cart, but a smart 
little house upon wheels, with white dimity curtains 
festooning the windows, and window-shutters of green 
picked out with panels of red. Neither was it a gipsy 
caravan, for at the open door (graced with a bright 
brass knocker) sat a lady, stout and comfortable to look upon, 
her bonnet trembling with bows. And this lady’s occupation 
was the very pleasant one of taking tea. The tea-things, in- 
cluding a cold knuckle of ham, were set forth upon a drum, 
covered with a white napkin; and there, as if at the most con- 
venient round-table in all the world, sat this roving lady. 

It happened that at that moment she had her cup to her 
lips, and it was not until she was in the act of setting it down, 
that she beheld an old man and a young child walking slowly 
by, and glancing at her tea things with longing eyes. 

“Hey,” cried the lady of the caravan shortly but kindly, 
“Who are you?” 

The child, who was a pretty little blue eyed girl, answered in 
a soft voice, “My name is Nell.” Then she took the hand of 
the old man with a tender protecting air, as though he were the 
child and she his mother, “and this is my grandfather. Can 
you tell us how far we shall have to walk before we come to the 
next town?” 

The stout lady answered that the town was at least eight 
miles off. 

This information a little discouraged the child, who could 
scarcely keep back a tear as she glanced along the darkening 
road. Her grandfather made no complaint, but he sighed heav- 
ily as he leaned upon his staff, and vainly tried to see into the 
dusty distance. 

★Arranged from The Old Curiosity Shop. 



130 


THROUGH FAIRY HALLS 




MY BOOK HOUSE 


The lady of the caravan was about to gather her tea things 
together and clean the table, but noting the child’s anxious man- 
ner, she hesitated and stopped. The child courtesied, thanked 
her for her information, and had already led the old man some 
fifty yards or so away, when the lady of the caravan called to 
her to return. 

“Come nearer, nearer still,” said she, beckoning to her to 
ascend the steps. “Are you hungry, child?” 

“Not very, but we are tired, and it’s — it is a long way.” 

“Is your home in the next town?” 

“No, we have no home! We are wanderers.” 

“Well, hungry or not, you had better have some tea. I sup- 
pose you are agreeable to that, old gentleman?” 

The grandfather humbly pulled off his hat and thanked her. 
The lady of the caravan then bade him come up the steps like- 
wise, but the drum proving too small a table for two, they went 
down again, and sat upon the grass, where she handed them the 
tea-tray, the bread and butter, the knuckle of ham, and in short 
every thing of which she had eaten herself. 

“Set ’em out near the hind wheels, child, that’s the best 
place,” she said, directing the arrangements from above. “Now 
hand up the teapot for a little more hot water, and a pinch of 
fresh tea, and then both of you eat and drink as much as you 
can, and don’t spare any thing; that’s all I ask of you.” 

So the two made a hearty meal and enjoyed it to the utmost. 

While they were thus engaged, the lady of the caravan 
alighted on the earth, and with her hands clasped behind her, 
and her large bonnet trembling excessively, walked up and down 
in a very stately manner, looking over the caravan from time to 
time with an air of calm delight, and enjoying particularly the red 
panels and the brass knocker, of which she was very proud. 
When she had taken this gentle exercise for some time, she sat 


132 


THROUGH FAIRY HALLS 


down upon the steps and called “George;” whereupon a man 
in a carter’s frock, who had been hidden from sight in a hedge, 
parted the twigs that concealed him and appeared in a sitting 
attitude, supporting on his legs a baking-dish, and bearing in 
his right hand a knife, and in his left a fork. 

“Yes, Missus,” said George. 

“How did you find the cold pie, George?” 

“It wam’t amiss, mum.” 

“We are not a heavy load, George. Would these two trav- 
elers make much difference to the horses, if we took them with 
us?” asked his mistress, pointing to Nell and the old man who 
were painfully preparing to resume their journey on foot. 

“They’d make a difference in course,” said George doggedly. 

But his mistress turned to the old man and the child and told 
them they should go on to the town with her in the caravan. 
Nell was overjoyed and thanked the lady earnestly. 

She helped with great readiness to put away the tea-things, 
and, the horses being by that time harnessed, mounted into the 
vehicle, followed by her delighted grandfather. The lady then 
shut the door and sat herself down by her drum at an open win- 
dow. The steps were taken down by George and stowed under 
the carriage. Then away they went, with a great no|se of flap- 
ping and creaking and straining; and the bright brass knocker, 
which nobody ever knocked at, knocking one perpetual double 
knock of its own accord as they jolted along. 

When they had traveled slowly forward for some short dis- 
tance, Nell ventured to look round the caravan and observe it 
mom closely. One half of it was carpeted, and so partitioned 
off at the further end as to form a sleeping-place, made after 
the fashion of a berth on board ship. This was shaded, like 
the little windows, with fair white curtains, and looked com- 
fortable enough, though by what kind of gymnastic exercise the 


133 


MY BOOK HOUSE 

lady of the caravan ever managed to get into it, was a mystery. 
The other half served for a kitchen, and was fitted up with a 
stove, whose small chimney passed through the roof. It held 
also, a closet or larder, several chests, a great pitcher of water 
and a few cooking-utensils. These latter necessaries hung upon 
the walls, which were also ornamented with a triangle and a 
couple of well-thumbed tambourines. 

The lady of the caravan sat at one window, and little Nell 
and her grandfather at the other, while the machine jogged on. 
At first the two travelers spoke little, and only in whispers, but 
as they grew more familiar with the place, they ventured to talk 
about the country through which they were passing, and the 
different objects that presented themselves, until the old man 
fell asleep. The lady of the caravan, seeing this, invited Nell 
to come and sit beside her. 

“ Well, child,” she said, “ how do you like this way of traveling?” 

Nell replied that she thought it was very pleasant indeed. 

Then getting up, the lady brought out from a comer a large 
roll of canvas about a yard in width, which she laid upon the 
floor and spread open with her foot, until it nearly reached from 
one end of the caravan to the other. 

“There, child,” she said proudly, “read that.” 

Nell walked down it, and read aloud, in enormous black 
letters, the inscription, 

“JARLEY’S WAX-WORKS” 

“ Read it again,” said the lady, enjoying the fine sounding words. 

“Jarley’s Wax-Works,” repeated Nell. 

“That’s me,” said the lady. “I am Mrs. Jarley.” 

And she unfolded another scroll, whereon was written 
“ONE HUNDRED FIGURES THE FULL SIZE OF LIFE.” 
And then another, “THE ONLY STUPENDOUS COLLEC- 


134 



THROUGH FAIRY HALLS 

TION OP REAL WAX-WORK IN THE WORLD," and then 
several smaller scrolls with such inscriptions as: 



“I never saw any wax-work, ma’am,” said Nell. “Is it 
funnier than Punch?” 

“Funnier!” said Mrs. Jarley, in a shrill voice. “It is not 
funny at all. It’s figures of people made out of wax, and so 
like life, that if wax-work only spoke and walked about, you’d 
hardly know the difference.” 

“Is it here in the cart, ma’am?” asked Nell, whose curiosity 
was awakened by this description. 

“Is what here, child?” 

“The wax-works, ma’am.” 

“Why bless you, child, what are you thinking of — how could 
such a collection be here, where you see every thing except the 
inside of one little cupboard and a few boxes? It’s gone on 
in the other vans to the Assembly-rooms, and there it’ll be exhib- 
ited the day after to-morrow. You are going to the same town, 
and you’ll see it I dare say. 

“I shall not be in the town, I think, ma’am,” said the child. 


i35 


MY BOOK HOUSE 


“Not there!” cried Mrs. Jarley. “Then where will you be?” 

“I — I — don’t quite know. I am not certain.” 

“You don’t mean to say that you’re traveling about the 
country without knowing where you’re going to?” said the lady 
of the caravan. “What curious people you are!” 

“We are poor people, ma’am,” returned Nell, “and are only 
wandering about. We have nothing to do; I wish we had.” 

“You amaze me more and more,” said Mrs. Jarley, after 
remaining for some time as silent as one of her own figures. 

At length she summoned the driver to come under the win- 
dow at which she was seated, and held a long conversation with 
him in a low tone, as if she were asking his advice on an impor- 
tant point. Then she drew in her head again, and, seeing the 
grandfather had awakened, said: 

“Do you want a good place for your grand-daughter to 
work, master? If you do, I can put her in the way of getting one.” 

“I can’t leave her,” answered the old man. “We can’t 
separate. What would become of me without her?” 

“If you want to employ yourself, too,” said Mrs. Jarley, 
“there would be plenty for you to do in the way of helping to 
dust the figures, and so forth. What I want your grand-daugh- 
ter for, is to point out to the company; she would soon learn 
who the figures are, and she has a way with her that people 
wouldn’t think unpleasant, though she does come after me; for 
I’ve been always accustomed to go round with visitors myself. 
It’s not a common offer, bear in mind,” said the lady, rising 
into the grand tone in which she was accustomed to address her 
audiences; “it’s Jarley’s wax-works, remember.” 

As to salary she could pledge herself to no certain sum until 
she had seen what Nell could do, and watched her in the per- 
formance of her duties. But board and lodging, both for her 
and her grandfather, she bound herself to provide, and she 

136 


THROUGH FAIRY HALLS 

furthermore passed her word that the board should always be 
good and plentiful. 

Nell and her grandfather consulted together, while Mrs. 
Jarley, with her hands behind her, walked up and down the car- 
avan with uncommon dignity. 

“Now, child,” cried Mrs. Jarley, coming to a halt as Nell 
turned toward her. 

“We are very much obliged to you, ma’am,” said Nell, “and 
thankfully accept your offer.” 

“And you’ll never be sorry for it,” returned Mrs. Jarley. 
“I’m pretty sure of that. So as that’s all settled, let us have 
a bit of supper.” 

In the meanwhile, the caravan came at last upon the paved 
streets of a town which were clear of passengers, and quiet, for 
it was by this time near midnight and the townspeople were 
all abed. As it was too late an hour to go to the room where 
they were to show the wax-works, they turned aside into a piece 
of waste ground that lay just within the old town-gate, and drew 
up there for the night, near to another caravan, which was 
employed in carrying the wonderful figures from place to place. 

This machine being empty (for it had left the wax-works 
at the place of exhibition) was pointed out to the old man as 
his sleeping-place for the night; and within its wooden walls 
Nell made him up the best bed she could from the materials 
at hand. For herself, she was to sleep in Mrs. Jarley’s own 
traveling-carriage, as a mark of that lady’s favor and confidence. 

Sleep hung upon the eyelids of the child so long, that, when 
she awoke, Mrs. Jarley was already decorated with her large 
bonnet, and actively engaged in preparing breakfast. She 
received Nell’s apology for being so late, with perfect good- 
humor, and said that she should not have roused her if she had 
slept on until noon. 


i37 


MY BOOK HOUSE 

The meal finished, Nell assisted to wash the cups and saucers, 
and put them in their proper places. These household duties 
performed, Mrs. Jarley arrayed herself in an exceedingly bright 
shawl for the purpose of making a very grand appearance as she 
walked through the streets of the town. 

“The van will come on after me to bring the boxes,” said 
Mrs. Jarley, “and you had better come in it, child. I am 
obliged to walk, very much against my will; but the people expect 
it of me. They must have a look at Mrs. Jarley, owner of the 
one and only Jarley’s Wax-Works. How do I look, child?” 

Nell returned a satisfactory reply, and Mrs. Jarley, after 
sticking a great many pins into various parts of her figure, and 
trying several times to see her own back, was at last satisfied 
with her appearance, and went forth majestically. 

The caravan followed at no great distance. As it went jolt- 
ing through the street, Nell peeped from the window, curious 
to see in what kind of place they were. It was a pretty large 
town, with an open square, in the middle of which was the Town- 
hall, with a clock-tower and a weather-cock. There were houses 
of stone, houses of red brick, houses of yellow 
brick, houses of plaster; and houses of wood, 
many of them very old, with withered faces 
carved upon the beams, and staring down into 
the street. These had very little winking win- 
dows, and low-arched doors, and, in some of 
the narrower ways, quite overhung the pave- 
ment. The streets were very clean, very sunny, 
very empty, and very dull. Nothing seemed 
to be going on but the clocks, and they had 
such drowsy faces, such heavy lazy hands, and 
such cracked voices, that they surely must 
have been too slow. The very dogs were asleep. 

138 



THROUGH FAIRY HALLS 

Rumbling along with most unwonted noise, the caravan 
stopped at last at the place of exhibition, where Nell dismounted 
amidst an admiring group of children, who evidently supposed 
her to be one of the wax figures. The chests were soon taken 
in to be unlocked by Mrs. Jarley, who, attended by George and 
another man, was waiting to decorate the room with the red 
festoons and other ornaments that came from the chests. 



i39 




MY BOOK HOUSE 


As the stupendous collection was yet concealed by cloths, 
lest the dust should injure their complexions, Nell bestirred 
herself to help and her grandfather also was of great service. 
The two men being well used to it, did a great deal in a short 
time; and Mrs. Jarley served out the tin tacks from a linen 
pocket which she wore for the purpose. 

When the festoons were all put up as tastily as they might 
be, the stupendous collection was uncovered. There were dis- 
played, on a raised platform some two feet from the floor,, run- 
ning round the room and parted from the public by a crimson 
rope, a number of wax figures as big as life, singly and in groups. 
They were clad in glittering dresses of various climes and times, 
and standing more or less unsteadily upon their legs, with their 
eyes wide open, and all their faces expressing great surprise. 
All the gentlemen were very pigeon-breasted and very blue 
about the beards, and all the ladies and all the gentlemen were 
looking intensely nowhere, and staring with extraordinary earn- 
estness at nothing. 

When Nell was over her first joy at this glorious sight, Mrs. 
Jarley gave her a willow wand, long used by herself for point- 
ing out the characters, and was at great pains to tell her just 
what she must do. 

Soon Nell knew all about the fat man, and the thin man, 
the tall man, the short man, the wild boy of the woods, and 
other historical characters. And so apt was she to remember 
them all, that she was soon perfectly able to guide all visitors. 

Mrs. Jarley then took her young friend and pupil to see the 
other arrangements. The passage had been changed into a 
grove of green cloth, hung with the inscriptions she had already 
seen. A highly ornamented table was placed at the upper end 
for Mrs. Jarley herself, where she was to sit and take the money, 
in company with his Majesty King George the Third, Mary 


140 


THROUGH FAIRY HALLS 

Queen of Scots, and other important personages. The prepa- 
rations without doors had not been neglected either; for a beau- 
tiful nun was standing on a balcony over the door; and a brig- 
and with the blackest possible head of hair, and the clearest 
possible complexion, was at that moment being taken round 
the town in a cart. 

In the midst of the various plans for attracting visitors to 
the show, little Nell was not forgotten. Decorated with paper 
flowers, she was given a seat beside the Brigand in the cart 
dressed with flags and streamers, wherein he rode. In this 
state and ceremony, she rode slowly through the town every 
morning, giving out handbills from a basket, to the sound of 
drum and trumpet. The beauty of the child, coupled with her 
gentle bearing, produced quite a sensation in the little country 
place. Grown-up folks began to be interested in the bright- 
eyed girl, and some score of little boys left nuts and apples, 
directed to her, at the wax-works door. 

All this interest in Nell was not lost upon Mrs. Jarley, who 
soon sent the Brigand out alone again, and kept Nell in the 
show-room, so that the people who were interested in her, would 
pay to come inside, where she described the figures every half- 
hour to the great satisfaction of all. 

Although her duties were not easy, Nell found in the lady 
of the caravan a very kind and considerate person, who not 
only liked to be comfortable herself, but wished to make every- 
body about her comfortable also. 

So Nell and her grandfather found a comfortable home for 
some time with 

MRS. JARLEY’S WAX WORKS. 


141 


my book house 



THE SHAKING OF THE 
PEAR-TREE 
Dinah M. Muloch Craik 
Of all days I remember, 

In summers passed away, 

Was “the shaking of the pear-tree,” 
In grandma’s orchard gay. 

A large old-fashioned orchard, 

With long grass under foot, 
And blackberry-brambles crawling 
In many a tangled shoot. 

From cherry time, till damsons 
Dropped from the branches sere, 
That wonderful old orchard 
Was full of fruit all year! 

We pick’d it up in baskets, 

Or pluck’d it from the wall; 
But the shaking of the pear-tree 
Was the grandest treat of all. 

So off we started gaily, 

Heedless of jolt and jar; 
Through town, and lane, and hamlet, 
In old Llewellyn’s car. 


142 


THROUGH FAIRY HALLS 



The patient, kind Llewellyn — 

Whose broad face smiled all o’er, 

As he lifted out the children 
’At Grandma’s very door. 

And there stood Grandma’s Betty, 
With cheeks like apples red; 

And Dash, the spaniel, waddled 
Out of his cosy bed. 

I hope no child will vex us, 

As we vexed Betty then, 

With winding up the draw-well, 

Or hunting the old hen. 

And teazing, teazing, teazing, 

Till afternoon wore ’round, 

And shaken pears came tumbling 
In showers upon the ground. 

O, how we jumped and shouted! 

O, how we plunged amid 

The long grass, where the treasures 
Dropped down and deftly hid; 


143 


MY BOOK HOUSE 

Long, slender-shaped, red-russOt, 

Or yellow just like gold; > 

Ah! never pears have tasted 

Like those sweet pears of old! 

We ate — I’d best not mention 
How many: paused to fill 

Big basket after basket; 

Working with right good-will; 

Then hunted round the orchard 
For half-ripe plums— in vain; 

So, back unto the pear-tree, 

And ate, and ate again. 

I’m not on my confession, 

And therefore need not say 

How tired, and cross, and sleepy. 

Some were ere dose of day, 


But yet this very minute, 

I seem to see it all — 

The pear-tree’s empty branches, 

The grey of evening fall; 

The children’s homeward silence, 

The furnace fires that glowed, 
Each mile or so, out streaming 
Across the lonely road; 

And high, high set in heaven, 

One large, bright, beauteous star, 
That shone between the curtains 
Of old Llewellyn’s car. 


144 


THROUGH FAIRY HALLS 

THE TWELVE MONTHS 
Bohemian Fairy Tale 

HERE was once a woman who had in her care two 
children. Katinka, the elder, was the woman’s own 
daughter, and she was as ugly in face as she was in 
heart, but Dobrunka, the younger, who was only a 
foster-child, was both beautiful and good. Now the 
sight of Dobrunka with all her winsome ways, made 
Katinka appear more than ever hateful and ugly. So 
the mother and daughter were always in a rage with Dobrunka. 

She was made to sweep, cook, wash, sew, spin, weave, cut 
the grass and take care of the cow, while Katinka lived like 
a princess. All this Dobrunka did with great good will, but 
that only made Katinka and her mother the more angry. The 
better she was, the more plainly did their own wickedness show 
by contrast, and as they had no wish to do away with their wicked- 
ness, they made up their minds to do away with Dobrunka. 

One cold day in January, when frost castles glistened on 
the window panes and the earth was white with snow, Katinka 
took a fancy for some violets. She called Dobrunka harshly 
to her and said, “Go to the forest, lazy-bones, and bring me a 
bunch of violets, that I may put them in my bosom and enjoy 
their fragrance.” 

“O sister,” answered Dobrunka gently, “I cannot find you 
any violets under the snow.” 

But Katinka snapped out angrily, “Hold your tongue and 
do as I bid you. Go to the forest and bring me back a bunch 
of violets or you’ll find this door forever slammed shut in your 
face!” 

Upon this Katinka and her mother took Dobrunka by the 
arm, thrust her, without wraps or warm winter clothing, out into 
the cold, and drew the bolt on her. 



145 


MY BOOK HOUSE 


The poor girl went to the forest weeping sadly. Everything 
was covered with snow. There was not a foot path anywhere, 
and the giant pines and oaks bowed their branches low, borne 
down with their icy burdens. Soon in all this white and glit- 
tering wilderness, Dobrunka lost her way and wandered about, 
famishing with hunger and perishing with cold. Still in her heart 
she trusted that help would come to one who had done no harm. 

All at once she saw a light in the distance, a light that glowed 
in the sky and quivered now and again as if from the flickering 
flame of some mighty fire. With her eyes fixed hopefully on 
that light, Dobrunka climbed toward it. Higher and higher 
she climbed until at last she reached the top of a giant rock, 
and there, about a fire, their figures bright in the light and cast- 
ing long dark shadows behind, sat twelve motionless figures on 
twelve great stones. Each figure was wrapped in a long flowing 
mantle, his head covered with a hood which fell over his eyes. 
Three of these mantles were white like the snow, three were green 
like the grass of the meadows, three were golden like sheaves 
of ripe wheat, and three were purple as ripened grapes. These 
twelve figures, who sat there gazing at the fire in perfect silence, 
were the Twelve Months of the Year. 

Dobrunka knew January by his long white beard. He was 
the only one who had a staff in his hand. The sweet girl was 
confused at this sight, for she was not one to thrust herself for- 
ward with strangers. Still she spoke to them with great respect. 

“My good sirs, I pray you let me warm myself by your fire; 
I am freezing with cold.” 

January nodded his head and motioned her to draw near 
the blaze. 

“Why have you come here, my child?” he asked. “What 
are you looking for?” 

“I am looking for violets,” replied Dobrunka. 

I46 


THROUGH FAIRY HALLS 



“This is not the season for violets. Dost thou expect to 
find violets in the time of snow?” January’s voice was gruff. 

“Nay,” replied Dobrunka sadly, “I know this is not the 
season for violets, but my foster sister and mother thrust me 
out of doors and bade me get them. They will never let me 
come under the shelter of their roof again unless I obey. O my 
good sirs, can you not tell me where I shall find them?” 

Old January rose, and turning to a mere youth in a green 
mantle, put his staff in his hand and said: 

“Brother March, this is your business.” 

March rose in turn and stirred the fire with the staff, when 
behold! the flames rose, the snow melted, the buds began to 
swell on the trees, the grass turned green under the bushes, faint, 
faint color peeped forth through the green, and the violets opened, 
—it was Spring. 


147 


MY BOOK HOUSE 

“Make haste, my child, and gather your violets.” said March. 

Dobrunka gathered a large bouquet, thanked the Twelve 
Months, and ran home joyously. Katinka and her mother 
were struck dumb with astonishment when they saw her spring 
lightly in with shining face at the doorway. The fragrance of 
the violets filled the whole house. 

“Where did you find these things?” asked Katinka when 
she had recovered the use of her tongue. 

“Up yonder, on the mountain,” answered Dobrunka. “It 
looked like a great blue carpet under the bushes.” 

But Katinka only snatched away the flowers, put them in 
her own bosom, and never once said so much as a “Thank you!” 

The next morning Katinka, as she sat idling by the stove, 
took a fancy for some strawberries. 

“Go to the forest, good-for-nothing, and bring me some 
strawberries,” cried she to Dobrunka. 

“O sister,” answered Dobrunka, “but there are no straw- 
berries under the snow.” 

“Hold your tongue and do as I bid you.” 

And the mother and daughter took Dobrunka by the arm, 
thrust her out of the door and drew the bolt on her once again. 

So the sweet girl returned to the forest, singing this time 
to keep up her courage, and looking with all her eyes for the light 
she had seen the day before. At length she spied it, and reached 
the great fire, trembling with cold, but still singing. 

The Twelve Months were in their places, motionless and 
silent. 

“My good sirs,” said Dobrunka, “please to let me warm 
myself by your fire; I am almost frozen.” 

“Why have you come hither again?” asked January. “What 
are you looking for now?” 

“I am looking for strawberries,” answered she. 

148 


THROUGH FAIRY HALLS 

“This is not the season for strawberries,” growled January, 
“there are no strawberries under the snow.” 

“I know it,” replied Dobrunka sadly, “but alas! I may never 
again cross my foster mother’s threshold, unless I find them.” 

Old January rose, and turning to a full grown man in a 
golden mantle, he put his staff in his hand, saying, 

“Brother June, this is your business.” 

June rose in turn, and stirred the fire with the staff, when 
behold! the flames rose, the snow melted, the earth grew green, 
the trees were covered with leaves, the birds sang, the flowers 
burst into bloom— it was Summer. Thousands of little white 
stars dotted the green turf, then turned slowly to red straw- 
berries, ripe and luscious in their little green cups. 

“Make haste, my child, and gather your strawberries,” said 
June. 

Dobrunka filled her apron, thanked the Twelve Months 
and ran home joyfully. Once again Katinka and her mother 
were struck dumb with astonishment when they saw her spring 
lightly in with shining face at the doorway. The fragrance of 
the strawberries filled the whole house. 

“Where did you find these fine things?” asked Katinka 
when she had recovered the use of her tongue. 

“Up yonder on the mountain,” answered Dobrunka as 9he 
handed the berries to Katinka, “there were so many of them, 
that they looked like a crimson carpet on the ground.” 

Katinka and her mother devoured the strawberries and 
never once said so much as a “Thank you.” 

The third day, Katinka took a fancy for some red apples, 
and she thrust Dobrunka out to fetch them with the same threat 
she had used before. Dobrunka ran through the snow. So 
she came once more to the top of the great rock and the motion- 
less figures around the fire. 


149 


MY BOOK HOUSE 

“You here again, my child?” said January, as 
he made room for her before the fire. Dobrunka 
told him sadly it was rosy red apples she must 
bring home this time. 

Old January rose as before. 

“Brother September,” said he to a man with 
an iron-gray beard who wore a purple mantle, 
“this is your business.” 

September rose and stirred the fire with the 
staff, when behold! the flames ascended, the 
snow melted, yellow and crimson leaves appeared 
on the trees, gently a brown leaf floated down — it was autumn. 
But Dobrunka saw one thing only, an apple tree with its rosy 
fruit. 

“Make haste, my child, shake the tree,” said September. 

Dobrunka shook it; an apple fell; she shook it again, and 
down fell another. 

“Now take what thou hast and hurry home!” cried Septem- 
ber. 

The good child thanked the Twelve Months and obediently 
ran back home. Now the astonishment of Katinka and her 
mother knew no bounds — 

“Apples in January! Where did you get them?” asked 
Katinka. 

“Up yonder on the mountain; there is a tree there loaded 
down with them.” 

“Why did you bring only these two? You ate the rest on 
the way!” 

“Nay, sister, I did not touch them. I was only permitted 
to shake the tree twice, eo only two apples fell down.” 

At that Katinka cried angrily, “I do not believe you. You 
have eaten the rest. Begone!” and she drove Dobrunka out 

150 



THROUGH FAIRY HALLS 

of the room. Then she sat down and ate one of the apples while 
her mother ate the other. Their flavor was delicious. They 
had never tasted the like before. 

“ Mother,’ ’ cried Katinka, “Give me my warm fur cloak. 
I must have more of these apples. I shall go to the mountain, 
find the tree and shake it as long as I like, whether I am per- 
mitted or not. I shall bring back for myself all the delicious 
fruit on the tree.” 

The mother tried to stop her from going forth into the win- 
try forest. But the spoiled child would not heed her. Wrap- 
ping herself in her warm fur coat, and pulling the hood down 
over her ears, she hurried away. 

Everything was covered with snow, there was not even a 
foot path. Katinka lost her way, but, urged on by greedy desire 



151 



MY BOOK HOUSE 

for the apples, she still went forward till she spied a light in the 
distance. Then she climbed and she climbed till at last she 
reached the place where the Twelve Months sat about their 
fire. But she knew not who they were, so she pushed rudely 
through their midst and up to the fire without even a “By your 
leave.” 

“Why have you come here? What do you want? asked 
old January gruffly. 

“What matters it to you, old man?” answered Katinka. 
“It is none of your business.” And without another word she 
turned and disappeared in the forest. 

January frowned till his brow was black as a storm cloud. 
He raised his staff above his head, and in a twinkling, the fire 
went out, black darkness covered the earth, the wind rose and 
the snow fell. 

Katinka could not see the way before her. The snow beat 
on her face and into her eyes and loomed up, mountains high, 
before her. She lost herself and vainly tried to find the way 
home. She called her mother, she cursed her sister, she shrieked 
out wildly. The snow fell and the wind blew, the snow fell and 
the wind blew — 

The mother looked for her darling ceaselessly. First from 
the door and then from the window, and then from the door 
and then from the window. The hours passed— the clock struck 
midnight and still Katinka did not return. 

“I shall go and look for my daughter,” said the mother. 
So she wrapped herself warmly in her great fur cloak and hood 
and waded off through the drifts into the forest. 

Everything was covered with snow; there was not even a 
foot path. At each step the woman called out through the storm 
for her daughter. The snow fell and the wind blew, the snow 
fell and the wind blew — 


152 


THROUGH FAIRY HALLS 


Dobrunka waited at home through the night but no one 
returned. In the morning she sat herself down at her spinning 
wheel and began to spin, but ever and again she sprang up and 
looked out at the window. 

“What can have happened?” she said. But the only answer 
was the glare of the sun on the ice and the cracking of the branches 
beneath their heavy burdens. 

Winter passed and summer came, but Katinka and her 
mother never returned to the little cottage beside the forest. 
So the house, the cow, the garden and the meadow fell to 
Dobrunka. In the course of time her Prince came She married 
and the place resounded with laughter and joy and singing. 
The Spring Months called the world into bloom for her; Sum- 
mer brought her flowers and sunny skies and green things grow- 
ing; Autumn filled her storehouses with golden grain and ripened 
fruit, and Winter gave her sweet home joys with her little ones 
by the blazing hearth. No matter how much the North wind 
blew, and the house shook, and the snow fell— there was always 
spring and summer in Dobrunka’s heart. So the roses climbed 
up over her cottage, the sweetest song birds sang at her door, 
her blossoming fruit trees perfumed the air, and the laughter 
of her children made music everywhere. 

But as to Katinka and her mother, there was winter in 
their hearts, and so for them it continued that the snow fell and 
the wind blew, the snow fell and the wind blew— 

OLD WINTER 

Old Winter sad, in snow yclad, 

Is making a doleful din; 

But let him howl till he crack his jowl, 

We will not let him in. 

— Thomas Noel. 


153 


MY BOOK HOUSE 


THE THREE WISHES 
A Spanish Fairy Tale 
One winter’s night many years 
ago, an old man, named Pedro, 
and his wife, Joanna, sat by their cozy fire, talking to one another, 
in a little old village in Spain. Now Pedro was comfortably well 
off in the goods of this world, but instead of giving thanks to 
God for the benefits they enjoyed, he and his wife spent all their 
time in wishing for the good things possessed by their neighbors. 

“Bah!” cried Pedro. “This wretched little hut of ours is 
only fit to house a donkey! Would that we owned the fine house 
and farm of our neighbor, Diego!” 

“Aye! Diego’s house and farm are well enough and better 
than ours by far,” answered Joanna. “Still I could wish to have 
such a mansion as the grandees possess— such a one as that of 
Don Juan de la Rosa.” 

“Then there’s that old donkey of ours,” went on Pedro sullenly. 
“Good for nothing — nothing at all. He cannot carry so much 
as an empty sack. How I should like to have for my own 
Diego’s strong Andalusian mule!” 

“O aye! Diego’s mule is better than our donkey,” said 
Joanna. “Yet, for me, I should like a fine white horse with 
trappings of scarlet and gold, like the one that bears Donna Isa- 
bella. It is strange how some people have only to wish for a 
thing in order to get it. I have never been in such luck. Would 
that we had only to speak to have our wishes come true!” 

Scarcely were the words out of Joanna’s mouth when lo! 
on the hearth before the old couple appeared a beautiful little 
lady. She was not more than eighteen inches high and her 
garments, that drifted lightly back and forth, were white and 
filmy and full of opal tints as though made of smoke, while a 
veil of the same airy stuff floated down from a crown of glowing 

154 



through fairy halls 

sparks on her head. In her hand she bore a little golden wand, 
on the end of which was a single spark that glowed like a ruby. 

I am the Fairy Fortunata,” said she from the midst of the 
rosy names. “I have heard your complaints and am come to 
give you what you desire. Three wishes you shall have, — one 
for you, Joanna,— one for you, Pedro,— and the third you shall 
agree upon between you and I will grant it in person when I 
return at this time tomorrow/ ’ 

So saying, the Fairy Fortunata sprang through the flames 
and disappeared in a cloud of smoke. Ah! but the old couple 
were delighted. Three wishes! Three wishes to come true! 
They began to think at once of what they most desired in all 
the world. Wishes came swarming to them as thick as bees to 
a hive. The old man would be content with such prosperity 
as his neighbor, the farmer Diego, enjoyed, but the old woman 
ah! her desires flew high — a palace with domes and spires 
and cupolas, and floors tiled with sapphire, and walls and ceil- 
ings done with arabesques of crimson, blue and gold; colonnaded 
courtyards with fountains playing in the centre, and gardens 
and servants and what not besides! Well, so many were the 
desires that came crowding to 
the old couple, that they could 
not agree off-hand on just which 
three to wish for. So they 
determined to put off their de- 
cision until the next day and 
began talking of different things 
altogether. In a little while 
their conversation began to drift, 
as usual, to their wealthier 
neighbors whom they were for- 
ever envying. 



155 



MY BOOK HOUSE 


“I dropped in at Diego’s house this morning,” said Pedro, 
“and they were making black puddings there in the kitchen. 
Um! but they smelled good — those puddings! Diego can buy 
the best of raisins and everything else. He does not have to 
put up with such poor stuff as we have to eat!” 

“True! True!” said Joanna. “I wish I had one of Diego’s 
puddings here this minute to roast on the ashes for supper!” 

The words were not out of Joanna’s mouth when there 
appeared on the ashes before her the most delicious black 
pudding that could possibly be imagined! The woman’s eyes 
nearly started out of her head! But Pedro jumped up in a rage. 

“You greedy creature!” he cried. “Through your gluttony 
you have used up one of our precious wishes! Good heavens, 
to wish for nothing more than a poor little pudding! It makes 
me wild! You’re more stupid than a goose, and I wish the pud- 
ding were stuck fast to your nose!” 

At that — whisk ! there flew the black pudding and hung from 
the very place he had indicated. Then was the old man struck 
with horror, for shake her head as she might, Joanna could no 
more shake off the pudding than she could shake off her nose! 

“See what you have done, evil tongue!” she wailed. “If 
I employed my wish badly, at least it injured no one but myself, 
but you — you — see how you have made use of your wish!” 

Thereupon, the dog and cat, having sniffed the savory pud- 
ding, came leaping up and began springing and pawing, in hopes 
to get one little liclc of that luscious morsel that was now become 
Dame Joanna’s nose! 

“Down! Down!” shrieked Joanna, as she wildly defended 
the part attacked. “I shall agree to nothing else for our third 
wish than that this miserable pudding be taken off my nose!” 

“Wife, for heaven’s sake!” cried Pedro, “don’t ask that! 
What of the new farm I wanted!” 

156 


THROUGH FAIRY HALLS 

“I will never agree to wish for it!” 

“But listen to reason! Think of the palace you desired, 
with domes and spires and cupolas, and floors tiled with sapphire, 
and walls and ceilings in arabesques of crimson, blue and gold!” 

“It does not matter!” 

“O my dear! let us wish at least for a fortune, and then you 
shall have a golden case set with all the jewels you please, to 
cover the pudding on your nose!” 

“I will not hear of it!” 

“Then, alas and alack, we shall be left just as we were before!” 

“That is all I desire! I see now we were well enough off as 
we were!” 

And for all that the man could say, nothing could alter his 
wife’s determination. So at last they agreed, and when on the 
following night the Fairy rose from the flames and bade them 
tell her their third wish, they made answer: 

“We wish only to be as we were before.” 

So that was the wish she granted. 



i57 


MY BOOK HOUSE 



WHITE HORSES 
Hamish Hendry 


I saw them plunging through the foam, 

I saw them prancing up the shore — 

A thousand horses, row on row. 

And then a thousand more! 

In joy they leaped upon the land, 

In joy they fled before the wind, 

Prancing and plunging on they raced. 

The huntsman raced behind. 

When this old huntsman goes to sleep, 

The horses live beneath the waves; 

They live at peace, and rest in peace, 

Deep in their sea green caves. 

But when they hear the huntsman’s shout 
Urging his hounds across the sea, 

Out from their caves in frenzied fear 
The great white horses flee! 

Today they plunged right through the foam, 
Today they pranced right up the shore, 

A thousand horses, row on row, 

And then a thousand more. 

158 


THROUGH FAIRY HALLS 


WHY THE SEA IS SALT* 

p^lPii 11 1 1 B 

A Norse Folk Tale 


Gudrun Thome-Thomsen 


Once on a time, but it was a 


long, long time ago, there were two 


brothers, one rich and one poor. 

J 0 0 

Now, one Christmas eve, the 

/. ■■■-.■cxyj 


poor one had not so much as a crumb in the house, either of 
meat or bread, so he went to his brother to ask him for something 
with which to keep Christmas. It was not the first time his 
brother had been forced to help him, and, as he was always 
stingy, he was not very glad to see him this time, but he said, 
“I’ll give you a whole piece of bacon, two loaves of bread, and 
candles into the bargain, if you’ll never bother me again— but 
mind you don’t set foot in my house from this day on.” 

The poor brother said he wouldn’t, thanked his brother for 
the help he had given him, and started on his way home. 

He hadn’t gone far before he met an old, old man with a 
white beard, who looked so thin and worn and hungry that it 
was pitiful to see him. 

“In heaven’s name give a poor man a morsel to eat,” said 
the old man. 

“Now, indeed, I have been begging myself,” said the poor 
brother, “but I’m not so poor that I can’t give you something 
on the blessed Christmas eve.” And with that he handed the 
old man a candle, and a loaf of bread, and he was just going to 
cut off a slice of bacon, when the old man stopped him — “That 
is enough and to spare,” said he. “And now, I’ll tell you some- 
thing. Not far from here is the entrance to the home of the 
underground folks. They have a mill there which can grind 
out anything they wish for except bacon; now mind you go there. 
When you get inside they will all want to buy your bacon, but 

★From East o’ the Sun and West o’ the Moon. Used by special arrangement with th*» anthn». 

and the publisher, Row, Peterson & Co. r 


159 


MY BOOK HOUSE 

don’t sell it unless you get in return the mill which stands behind 
the door. When you come out I’ll teach you how to handle 
the mill.” 

So the man with the bacon thanked the other for his good 
advice and followed the directions which the old man had given 
him, and soon he stood outside the door of the hillfolks’ home. 

When he got in, everything went just as the old man had 
said. All the hillfolk, great and small, came swarming up to 
him, like ants around an ant-hill, and each tried to outbid the 
other for the bacon. 

“Well!” said the man, “by rights, my old dame and I ought 
to have this bacon for our Christmas dinner; but, since you have 
all set your hearts on it, I suppose I must give it up to you. Now, 
if I sell it at all, I’ll have for it that mill behind the door yonder.” 

At first the hillfolk wouldn’t hear of such a bargain and hig- 
gled and haggled with the man, but he stuck to what he said, 
and at last they gave up the mill for the bacon. 

When the man got out of the cave and into the woods again, 
he met the same old beggar and asked him how to handle the 
mill. After he had learned how to use it, he thanked the old 
man and went off home as fast as he could; still the clock had 
struck twelve on Christmas eve before he reached his own door. 

“Wherever in the world have you been?” said his old dame. 
“Here have I sat hour after hour, waiting and watching, with- 
out so much as two sticks -to lay under the Christmas porridge.” 

“Oh!” said the man, “I could not get back before, for I had 
to go a long way first for one thing and then for another; but 
now you shall see what you shall see.” 

So he put the mill on the table, and bade it first of all grind 
lights, then a tablecloth, then meat, then ale, and so on till they 
had everything that was nice for Christmas fare. He had only 
to speak the word and the mill ground out whatever he wanted. 

160 


THROUGH FAIRY HALLS 

The old dame stood by blessing her stars, and kept on asking 
where he had got this wonderful mill, but he wouldn’t tell her. 

“ It’s all the same where I got it. You see the mill is a good 
one, and the mill stream never freezes. That’s enough.” 

So he ground meat and drink and all good things to last out 
the whole of Christmas holidays, and on the third day he asked 
all his friends and kin to his house and gave them a great feast. 
Now, when his rich brother saw all that was on the table and 
all that was in the cupboards, he grew quite wild with anger, 
for he could not bear that his brother should have anything. 

“’Twas only on Christmas eve,” he said to the rest, “he 
was so poorly off that he came and begged for a morsel of food, 
and now he gives a feast as if he were a count or a king,” and 
he turned to his brother and said, “But where in the world did 
you get all this wealth?” 

“From behind the door,” answered the owner of the mill, for 
he did not care to tell his brother much about it. But later in 
the evening, when he had gotten a little too merry, he could keep 
his secret no longer, and he brought out the mill and said: 

“There you see what has gotten me all this wealth,” and so 
he made the mill grind all kinds of things. 

When his brother saw it, he set his heart on having the mill, 
and, after some talk, it was agreed that the rich brother was 
to get it at hay-harvest time, when he was to pay three hun- 
dred dollars for it. Now, you may fancy the mill did not grow 
rusty for want of work, for while he had it the poor brother made 
it grind meat and drink that would last for years. When hay- 
harvest came, the rich brother got it, but he was in such a hurry 
to make it grind that he forgot to learn how to handle it. 

It was evening when the rich brother got the mill home, 
and next morning he told his wife to go out into the hayfield 
and toss hay while the mowers cut the grass, and he would stay 

161 


MY BOOK HOUSE 

home and get the dinner ready. 
So, when dinner time drew 
near, he put the mill on the 
kitchen table and said: 

“Grind herrings and broth, 
and grind them good and fast.” 

And the mill began to grind 
herrings and broth, first of all 
the dishes full, then all the 
tubs full, and so on till the 
kitchen floor was quite covered. 
The man twisted and twirled 
at the mill to get it to stop, 
but for all his fiddling and 
fumbling the mill went on grind- 
ing, and in a little while the 
broth rose so high that the 
man was nearly drowning. So he threw open the kitchen door and 
ran into the parlor, but it was not long before the mill had 
ground the parlor full too, and it was only at the risk of his life 
that the man could get hold of the latch of the housedoor through 
the stream of broth. When he got the door open, he ran out and 
set off down the road, with the stream of herrings and broth 
at his heels, roaring like a waterfall over the whole farm. 

Now, his old dame, who was in the field tossing hay, thought 
it a long time to dinner, and at last she said: 

“Well! though the master doesn’t call us home, we may as 
well go. Maybe he finds it hard work to boil the broth, and 
will be glad of my help.” 

The men were willing enough, so they sauntered homewards. 
But just as they had got a little way up the hill, what should 
they meet but herrings and broth, all running and dashing and 

162 



THROUGH FAIRY HALLS 

splashing together in a stream, and the master himself r unnin g 
before them for his life, and as he passed them he called out: 

Eat, drink! eat, drink! but take care you’re not drowned in 
the broth.” 

Away he ran as fast as his legs would carry him to his 
brother’s house, and begged him in heaven’s name to take back 
the mill, at once, for, said he, “If it grinds only one hour more 
the whole parish will be swallowed up by herrings and broth.” 

So the poor brother took back the mill, and it wasn’t long 
before it stopped grinding herrings and broth. 

And now he set up a farmhouse far finer than the one in which 
his brother lived, and with the mill he ground so much gold 
that he covered it with plates of gold. And, as the farm lay 
by the seaside, the golden house gleamed and glistened far away 
over the sea. All who sailed 
by put ashore to see the rich man 
in the golden house, and to see 
the wonderful mill the fame of 
which spread far and wide, till 
there was nobody who hadn’t 
heard of it. 

So one day there came a 
skipper who wanted to see the 
mill, and the first thing he 
asked was if it could grind salt. 

“Grind salt!” said the 
owner. “I should just think it 
could. It can grind anything.” 

When the skipper heard that, 
he said he must have the mill, 
for if he only had it, he thought, 
he need not take his long voy- 

163 





MY BOOK HOUSE 


ages across stormy seas for a lading of salt. He much preferred 
sitting at home with a pipe and a glass. Well, the man let him 
have it, but the skipper was in such a hurry to get away with 
it that he ha,d no time to ask how to handle the mill. He got 
on board his ship as fast as he could and set sail. When he 
had sailed a good way off, he brought the mill on deck and said, 
“ Grind salt, and grind both good and fast.” 

And the mill began to grind salt so that it poured out like 
water, and when the skipper had got the ship full he wished to 
stop the mill, but whichever way he turned it, and however 
much he tried, it did no good; the mill kept on grinding, the heap 
of salt grew higher and higher, and at last down sank the ship. 

There lies the mill at the bottom of the sea, and .grinds away 
to this very day, and that is the reason why the sea is salt — 
so some folks say. 




THE SEA SHELL* 

Amy Lowell 

Sea Shell, Sea Shell, 

Sing me a song, O please! 

A song of ships and sailor-men 
Of parrots and tropical trees; 

Of islands lost in the Spanish Main 
Which no man may see again. 

Of fishes and corals under the waves, 

And sea-horses stabled in great green caves — 
Sea Shell, Sea Shell, 

Sing me a song, O please. 


★Used by the courteous permission of the author. 


164 



THROUGH FAIRY HALLS 



THE STRONG BOY 
A Canadian Fairy Tale 

Once upon a time, long, long ago, there was an Indian woman, 
who went a journey with her infant son through the wild Cana- 
dian woods. As the woman trudged along with her baby slung 
at her back, there came out of the woods a great Grizzly Bear. 
When the Bear saw the woman with no companions to guard 
her, he growled fiercely, fell upon her, seized her in his great 
shaggy arms and carried her and her son off to his cave in the 
mountains. There in his deep dark den he kept them prisoners 
year after year. They must live on what poor scraps of food 
he threw them when not too ill-tempered to give them nothing 
at all, and the woman must dance every night to his bidding, 
dance and amuse him till she was quite wearied out. If ever 
she rebelled and refused to obey, she got a cruel scratch from his 
claw on her cheek or a cuff from his mighty paw. And never 

165 


MY BOOK HOUSE 

once could the woman or her son get one little glimpse of day- 
light, for the Bear had five great grizzly sons and when he was 
from home, his sons stood guard at the door of the cave so they 
could not hope to get out. 

Well, of course the woman’s baby didn’t stay always a baby, 
but grew to be a fine boy. One day when he was about nine 
years old, he sat at the back of the den, looking into a pool, which 
was formed by a little stream that came bubbling into the cave. 
As he looked, lo! he saw a face peering up at him out of the water. 

“What is the use of a boy who sits still and lets his mother 
be bullied?" ’ said a voice from below the water. 

“Ah,” answered the Boy, “though I long ever so much to 
save my mother, how can a boy like me overcome a great grizzly 
bear and his great grizzly sons?” 

“You will never overcome them if you sit still in this cave 
and do not even use what strength you have,” said the Water 
Sprite. “You can only grow strong enough for such a deed 
by going out into the world and doing each day something stronger 
and greater than you did the day before.” 

“But how am I to get out into the world?” asked the Boy, 
“with the Bear’s grizzly sons forever on guard at the only door.” 

“Ah,” gurgled the Water Sprite, “don’t be too sure that’s 
the only door. Slip out of the cave as I slipped in.” And with 
another gurgle, the face in the pool disappeared. 

Then the Boy ran to his mother and told her what had occurred. 

“My son,” said the woman, but with sadness as of tears in 
her voice, “the Water Sprite is right. The time has come when 
you must leave me and go out into the world to grow strong.” 

Just as they spoke, in came the Bear, and with greater fierce- 
ness than ever before, he rose up on his hind feet, and bade the 
poor woman dance. At that the Boy could stand it no longer, 
but rushed upon him. The Bear was so astonished that he 
166 


THROUGH FAIRY HALLS 

stood for a moment with gaping mouth and paws poised high in 
the air. Then he made a great lunge to catch the Boy in his 
arms and hug the breath out of him. No chance at all had a 
child against such a huge powerful beast. But as the great bully 
sprang forward, he knocked the lad over into the pool before he 
could stop himself. The moment his paws touched the water, 
he let go his hold and began to howl. “Ow-wow! Ow! Ow! 
Stop stinging me!” For the Water Sprite was after him, so the 
coward jerked his paws out of the water and the little Boy was 
free. 

The next thing the Boy knew he was gliding along comfort- 
ably under the water and the Water Sprite was beside him. Pretty 
soon they rose smoothly up to the surface, and there all about 
was the great, wide, beautiful, sunlit world. The Water Sprite 
guided the Boy to the shore and then he bade him farewell. 

“Go now and grow strong,” said he, “so you can return and 
rescue your mother. When you are ready to go back, come to 
the river and call for me.” 

So the Boy thanked the Water Sprite, climbed out of the 
water and off he went on his journey. He hadn’t gone far when 
he met a man lifting a great canoe from the water. There were 
rapids in the stream just ahead and the man was going to carry his 
canoe along the bank till he could launch it in smooth water again. 

“Let me help you,” said the Boy to the Man. The Man 
looked him over from head to foot and saw he was but a child. 
At that he laughed with derision and said: 

“Much help you’ll be, little squirrel. Take hold of that end 
down there, if you like. Perhaps you can lift as much as a grass- 
hopper!” 

So the Man turned the canoe upside down and put it on his 
shoulders; the Boy put his shoulders under one end and away 
they marched. The canoe seemed to the Boy very heavy at 

167 


MY BOOK HOUSE 



first but as they went farther, it grew lighter and lighter, and 
he bore more and more of the weight with each step, till by and 
by the Man had shifted it all onto his shoulders and was only 
pretending to carry it. 

“Well,” said the man when they launched the canoe again 
in the river, you are a strong boy. Let us journey on together ” 
For he thought within himself that he could make good use of 
such a strong fellow as this. 

They travelled far and they travelled long, and every day 
the man gave the Boy more work to do and did less and less him- 
self, so every day the Boy grew stronger and stronger, and the 
Man grew weaker and weaker. One night they encamped at a 
place on the river where the current was swift and strong. 
Scarcely had the Boy gathered the firewood and lit the fires, 
when they saw a large canoe filled with people come madly swirl- 
ing along down the stream. The people had lost their paddles, 
so they could not control the canoe and the current was bearing 
it straight for the spot where the river plunged down in a mighty 
fall and would dash the frail little bark into pieces. Men, women, 

1 68 


THROUGH FAIRY HALLS 

and children were frantically waving their hands and begging 
some one on shore to save them. At that, there came suddenly 
out of the forest a great burly man who seized a long pine pole 
and running it out across the river, put it under the plunging 
canoe. Then he raised the canoe with all the people straight 
up out of the water and drew it slowly toward the shore. 

“There is a strong man, I’ll be bound,” said the Boy to him- 
self. But just then he saw that the man’s strength was giving 
out. . He had drawn the canoe well up toward the shore, but 
was just about to drop it again and lose it once more in the cur- 
rent. So the Boy rushed out into the river, picked up the whole 
canoe full of people and carried it safely up onto the bank. Then 
said the man who had tried to save the people: “You are a 
strong boy — let me journey on with you.” 

So now there were three of them paddling off down the stream 
together, and every day the Men shifted more and more of the 
work to the Boy and every day as he worked he grew stronger 
and stronger while the Men grew weaker and weaker. 

At last one day they went ashore and said they would build 
a wigwam where they could rest awhile. The Men made many 
motions, but the Boy did all the work, and when he had put up 
a comfortable lodge, the Men bade him go and hunt to provide 
them with food for the winter. They would stay home said the 
two, for some one must mind the wigwam and prepare the eve- 
ning meal. Well, when the Boy was gone, the two lazy Men 
lolled about all day with their pipes and did no work at all; only 
towards evening they made ready the supper. Just as they had 
finished cooking it, a small boy came to the door of the wigwam, 
crying bitterly and begging for food. He looked very, very tiny 
and very, very weak and very, very poor and very, very miserable, 
so the Men bade him come in and help himself to a bite. But 
no sooner had the tiny little boy seated himself to the food, than 

169 


MY BOOK HOUSE 

in a twinkling he gobbled up all that had been prepared for the 
three strong men. At that the Men were very angry and they 
fell upon the little fellow to beat him. But the little fellow 
gripped them with hands of iron. Tiny as he was, he held those 
two strong men so they could not move a muscle. And he banged 
their heads together, and gave them such a drubbing as they 
had never had in all their lives before. 

When the Boy came home he found his two comrades sighing 
and groaning, and heard the tale of the terrible little imp who had 
stolen their supper and given them a beating. The next day 
the Men said it was their turn to go hunting and the Boy should 
stay home, for, though they had never intended to do any work 
at all, they much preferred going a-hunting to staying behind 
and running the chance of falling in once more with the imp. 
So off went the Men, and the Boy stayed home and worked about 
the wigwam and got the supper. When it was all cooked, there 
to the door came the tiny wee fellow, crying bitterly as before 
and begging for something, to eat. 

“Come in,’’ said the Strong Boy. At once the imp made 
a rush for the food, but the Strong Boy caught him and held him 
fast and then there was struggle. The imp had his strength 
by magic and was almost a match for the Strong Boy. They 
wrestled and tussled and tussled and wrestled. But at last the 
Strong Boy got the imp down and sat on him and then the imp 
began screeching and shrieking and pleading for his life. 

“Let me go! Let me go!’’ he cried, “I never thought there 
was anyone in the world strong enough to beat me. Let me go 
and I’ll show you how you can use your strength to win great 
treasures of blankets and wampum.” 

“Nay,” said the Boy, “I have no wish to use my strength 
to win great treasures.” 

“For what are you going to use it then?” whined the imp. 

170 


THROUGH FAIRY HALLS 

“I am going to save my mother from the Bear!” 

Oh, begged the imp, “but let me go and I’ll show you how 
you can conquer a chief and rule over his tribe.” 

“Nay,” said the Boy, “I have no wish to conquer a chief and 
rule over his tribe. I wish to save my mother from the Bear.” 

So, when the imp saw that he could not turn the Boy aside 
from the purpose for which he had got his strength, he knew full 
well that he could not rule over him. So long as he did not for- 
get that it was to save his mother he had grown strong, there was 
nothing that could stand against him. So the imp said: 

“I yield. I am the servant of a terrible giant who has never 
been defeated. If you will go and overcome the giant, I will 
be your servant from this time on and serve you faithfully.” 

So the Strong Boy let the imp go free and off they went to 
the giant’s cave in the side of the hill. When they went in, there 
stood the giant looming up as big and dark as the shadow of pine 
woods at midnight, and he sprang upon the Strong Boy with all 
the strength of the whirlwind. They fought for a night and a 
day. But at last the Strong Boy overcame the giant and made 
an end of him and then the little imp became his faithful servant. 
When he went back to the wigwam and his two comrades saw 
that he had conquered the imp and made him his faithful servant, 
and heard how he had conquered a giant, they began to think that 
he had grown too strong altogether, and they were afraid of him 
because they were now so much weaker than he. So when they 
set out again on the river they began to plan how they could 
get rid of him. At last they came to a place where the river 
ran into a narrow valley with great dark cliffs towering up on either 
side. They wanted to land but the precipices came straight 
down to the water’s edge and they could find no place to beach 
their canoe. At that the Men said: 

“You stay here and we will climb up the cliff. Then we will 
171 


MY BOOK HOUSE 



let down a rope and pull you up with the canoe.” 

So they climbed up the cliff and let down a rope and the 
Strong Boy was going to tie the rope to the canoe and let them 
pull him up. 

Don t do that,” said the imp. “Those men are afraid of 
you now. They know you could easily be their master and when 
they have you half way up the cliff they will cut the rope, so that 
you will come crashing down.” 

So the Strong Boy got a huge rock and tied it to the rope, 
then he called to the Men above to pull. They tugged and they 
tugged, but when they had the rock half way, sure enough, they 

172 


through fairy halls 

let go and the rock came crashing down. Then the Boy climbed 
up the cliff safe and sound, and when the Men saw him they 
wer f. ^nished and terrified that they ran for their lives. 

When he was thus freed of his unworthy companions, the 
strong Boy took the imp by the hand and flung himself into the 
nver. As he did so, he called on the Water Sprite, for now he 
was ready to be taken back to the cave. The Water Sprite came 
at once to his aid and soon they were gliding smoothly along 
underneath the water. In less time than it takes to tell they 
came up in the Grizzly Bear’s den. The Bear had just come 
home and he was more ugly and threatening than ever. 

“Dance!” he was saying to the poor woman. “Dance, till 
your teeth rattle! Dance, I tell you. Dance!” 

But the Strong Boy rushed out and seized him. It was a 
different story now from what it had been when they fought 
before, for in the Strong Boy’s arms the wicked old fellow could 
not even move. In a trice the breath was crushed out of him. 
As to the Bear s five sons, who all rushed out to save their father, 
the imp finished them, and soon the Strong Boy was leading his 
mother out of the cave and into the great wide beautiful world. 
So he built a good wigwam for her and took care of her always," 
and the imp and the Water Sprite lived close by, and they all 
were happy ever after. 



173 


MY BOOK HOUSE 



David Starr Jordan 

Once there was a terrible giant ogre, and he lived in a huge 
castle that was built right in the middle of a valley. All men 
had to pass by it when they came to the king’s palace on the 
rock at the head of the valley. And they were all terribly afraid 
of the ogre, and ran just as fast as they could when they went by. 
And when they looked back as they were running, they could see 
the ogre sitting on the wall of his castle. And he scowled at 
them so fiercely that they ran as fast as ever they could. For 
the ogre had a head as large as a barrel, and great black eyes 
sunk deep under long bushy eyelashes. And when he opened 
his mouth they saw that it was full of teeth, and so they ran 
away faster than ever, without caring to see anything more. 

And the king wanted to get rid of the ogre, and he sent his 
men to drive the ogre away and to tear down his castle. But the 
ogre scowled at them so savagely that their teeth began to fall 
out, and they all turned back and said they dare not fight such 
a horrid creature. Then Roger, the king’s son, rode his black 

★From The Book of Knight and Barbara. Used by permission of the author and the 
publishers, D. Appleton & Co. 

174 


through fairy halls 

horse Hurricane up against the door of the ogre’s castle, and struck 
hard against the door with his iron glove. Then the door opened 
and the ogre came out and seized Roger in one hand and the 
gre f t kl ac k horse in the other and rubbed their heads together, 
and while he did this he made them very small. Then he tumbled 
them over the wall into the ogre’s garden. And they crawled 
through a hole in the garden fence and both ran home, Roger 
one way and Hurricane the other, and neither dared tell the king 
nor anyone else where he had been, nor what the ogre had done to 
b™- But it was two or three days before they became large again. 

Then the king sent out some men with a cannon to batter 
down the walls of the ogre’s castle. But the ogre sat on the wall 
and caught the cannon balls in his hand and tossed them back at 
the cannon, so that they broke the wheels and scared away all 
the men. And when the cannon sounded the ogre roared so 
loudly that all the windows in the king’s palace were broken, and 
the queen and all the princesses went down into the cellar and 
hid among the sugar barrels, and stuffed cotton in their ears till 
the noise should stop. And whatever the king’s men tried to do 
the ogre made it worse and worse. And at last no one dared to 
go out into the valley beside the ogre’s castle, and no one dared 
look at it from anywhere, because when the ogre scowled all who 
saw him dropped to the ground with fear, and their teeth began 
to fall out, and when the ogre roared there was no one who could 
bear to hear it. 

So the king and all his men hid in the cellar of the castle with 
the queen and the princesses, and they stuffed their ears full of 
cotton, and the ogre scowled and roared and had his own way. 

But there was one little boy named Pennyroyal, who tended 
the black horse Hurricane, and he was not afraid of anything 
because he was a little boy. And the little boy said he would go 
out and see the ogre and tell him to go away. And they were all 

i7S 


MY BOOK HOUSE 



so scared that they could not ask him not to go. So Pennyroyal 
put on his hat, filled his pockets with marbles and took his kite 
under his arm, and went down the valley to the castle of the ogre. 
The ogre sat on the wall and looked at him, but the little boy 
was not afraid, and so it did the ogre no good to scowl. Then 
Pennyroyal knocked on the ogre’s door, and the ogre opened it 
and looked at the little boy. 

“Please, Mr. Ogre, may I come in?” said Pennyroyal; and 
the ogre opened the door, and the little boy began to walk around 
the castle looking at all the things. There was one room filled 
with bones, but the ogre was ashamed of it, and did not want to 
let the little boy see it. So when Pennyroyal was not looking 
the ogre just changed the room and made it small, so that instead 
of a room full of bones it became just a box of jackstraws. And 
the big elephant he had there to play with he made into a lap- 
elephant, and the little boy took it in his hand and stroked its 
tiny tusks and tied a knot in its trunk. And everything that 
could frighten the little boy the ogre made small and pretty, so 
that they had great times together. 

176 


THROUGH FAIRY HALLS 

And by and by the ogre grew smaller and smaller, and took 
off his ugly old face with the long teeth and bushy eyebrows and 
dropped them on the floor and covered them with a wolf-skin. 
Then he sat down on the wolf-skin and the little boy sat down 
on the floor beside him, and they began to play jackstraws with 
the box of jackstraws that had been a room full of bones. The 
ogre had never been a boy himself, so jackstraws was the only 
game he knew how to play. Then the elephant he had made 
small snuggled down between them on the floor. And as they 
played with each other, the castle itself grew small, and shrank 
away until there was just room enough for them and for their 
game. 

Up in the palace, when the ogre stopped roaring, the king 's 
men looked out and saw that the ogre’s castle was gone. Then 
Roger, the king’s son, called for Pennyroyal. But when he 
could not find the boy, he saddled the black horse Hurricane 
himself and rode down the valley to where the ogre’s castle had 
been. When he came back he told the king that the ogre and 
his castle were all gone. Where the castle stood there was nothing 
left but a board tent under the oak tree, and in the tent there 
were just two little boys playing jackstraws, and between them on 
the ground lay a candy elephant. 

That was all. For the terrible ogre was one of that kind of 
ogres that will do to folks just what folks do to them. There 
isn’t any other kind of ogre. 



177 


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A SONG FROM "THE FLOWER OF OLD JAPAN" 
Alfred Noyes 

There when the sunset colours the streets 
Everyone buys at wonderful stalls 
Toys and chocolates, guns and sweets, 

Ivory pistols, and Persian shawls; 

Everyone’s pockets are crammed with gold; 
Nobody ever grows tired and old, 

And nobody calls you “Baby” there. 

There with a hat like a round white dish 
Upside down on each pig-tailed head, 

Jugglers offer you snakes and fish, 

Dreams and dragons and gingerbread; 

Beautiful books with marvellous pictures, 

Painted pirates and streaming gore, 

And everyone reads, without any strictures, 

Tales he remembers for evermore. 


178 


THROUGH FAIRY HALLS 



THE MOON-MAIDEN 
A Japanese Fairy Tale 

There dwelt once on the edge of the forest at the foot of 
F ujiyama, a bamboo-cutter and his wife. They were honest, indus- 
trious people who loved each other dearly, but no children had 
come to bless them, and therefore they were not happy. 

“Ah husband,” mourned the wife, “more welcome to me than 
cherry blossoms in springtime would be a little child of my own. 

One evening she stood on the porch of her flimsy bamboo 
cottage and lifted her eyes toward the everlasting snows on the 
top of Fujiyama. Then, with swelling breast, she bowed herself 
to the ground and cried out to the Honorable Mountain: 

“Fuji no yama, I am sad because no little head lies on my 
breast, no childish laughter gladdens our home. Send me, I 
pray thee, from thine eternal purity, a little one to comfort me.” 

As she spoke, lo! from the top of the Honorable Mountain 

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MY BOOK HOUSE 

there suddenly sparkled a gleam of light as when the face of a 
child is lit by a beaming smile. 

“Husband, husband, come quickly,” cried the good woman. 
“See there on the heights of Fujiyama a child is beaming upon me.” 

“It is but your fancy,” said the bamboo-cutter and yet he 
added, “I will climb up and see what is there.” 

So he followed the trail of silvery light through the forest, 
and up the steep slope where Fujiyama towered white and still 
above him. At last he stopped below a tall bamboo by the bank 
of a mountain stream, from whence the glow seemed to come. 
There, cradled in the branches of the tree, he found a tiny moon- 
child, fragile, dainty, radiant, clad in flimsy, filmy moon-shine, 
more beautiful than anything he had ever seen before. 

“Ah, little shining creature, who are you?” he cried. 

“I am the Princess Moonbeam,” answered the child. “The 
Moon Lady is my mother, but she has sent me to earth to comfort 
the sad heart of your wife.” 

“Then, little Princess,” said the Woodman eagerly, “I will 
take you home to be our child.” 

So the woodman bore her carefully down the mountain side. 

“See, wife,” he called, “what the Moon Lady has sent you.” 

Then was the good woman overjoyed. She took the little 
moon-child and held her close, and the moon-child’s little arms 
went twining about her neck, as she nestled snug against her 
breast. So was the good wife’s longing satisfied at last. 

As the years passed by, Princess Moonbeam brought nothing 
but joy to the woodman and his wife. Lovelier and lovelier she 
grew. Fair was her face and radiant, her eyes were shining stars, 
and her hair had the gleam of a misty silver halo. About her! 
too, there was a strange unearthly charm that made all who saw 
her love her. 

One day there came riding by in state the Mikado himself. 

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through fairy halls 

He saw how the Princess Moonbeam lit up the humble cottage, 
and he loved her. Then the Mikado would have taken her 
back with him to court, but no!— the longing of the earthly 
father and mother for a little child had been fulfilled, the Princess 
Moonbeam had stayed with them till she was a maiden grown, 
and now the time had come when she must go back to her sky 
mother, the Lady in the Moon. 

“Stay, stay with me on earth!” cried the Mikado. 

“Stay, stay with us on earth!” cried the bamboo-cutter and 
his wife. Then the Mikado got two thousand archers and set 
them on guard close about the house and even on the roof, that 
none might get through to take her. But when the moon rose 
white and full, a line of light like a silver bridge sprung arching 
down from heaven to earth and floating along that gleaming path 
came the Lady from the Moon. The Mikado’s soldiers stood as 
though turned to stone. Straight through their midst the Moon- 
Lady passed and bent caressingly down for her long-absent child. 
She wrapped her close in a garment of silver mist. Then she 
caught her tenderly in her arms, and led her gently back to the 
sky. The Princess Moonbeam was glad to go back home, yet 
as she went, she wept silvery tears for those she was leaving 
behind. And lo! her bright shining tears took wings and floated 
away to carry a message of love, that should comfort the Mikado, 
and her earthly father and mother. 

To this very day the gleaming tears of the little Princess 
Moonbeam are seen to float hither and yon about the marshes 
and groves of Japan. The children chase them with happy cries 
and say, “See the fire-flies! How beautiful they are!” Then their 
mothers, in the shadow of Fujiyama, tell the children this legend — 
how the fire-flies are shining love messages of the little Princess 
Moonbeam, flitting down to bring comfort to earth from her 
far-off home in the silver moon. 

181 


MY BOOK HOUSE 



THE VILLAGE FAIR* 
Nicholas Nekrassov 


{Translated fr om the Russian by Juliet M. Soskice ) 

Our peasants determine 
To see the shop windows, 

The handkerchiefs, ribbons, 

And stuffs of bright color; 

And near to the boot-shop 
Is fresh cause for laughter; 

For here an old peasant 
Most eagerly bargains 
For small boots of goat-skin 
To give to his grandchild. 

He asks the price five times; 

Again and again 
He has turned them all over; 

He finds they are faultless. 

“Well, Uncle, pay up now, 

Or else be off quickly.” 

The seller says sharply. 

*Used by the courteous permission of The Oxford University Press. 
182 




THROUGH FAIRY HALLS 


But wait! the old fellow 
Still gazes, and fondles 
The tiny boots softly, 

And then speaks in this wise: 
“My daughter won’t scold me, 
My wife— let her grumble— 

My poor little grandchild 
She clung to my neck, 

And she said, ‘Little Grandfather, 
Buy me a present.’ 

“Her soft little ringlets 
Were tickling my cheek, 

And she kissed the old Grand-dad. 

You wait, little bare-foot. 

Wee spinning-top, wait then, 

Some boots I will buy you, 
Some boots made of goat-skin.” 

And then must old Vavil 
Begin to boast grandly. 

To promise a present 
To old and to young. 

But now his last farthing 
Is swallowed. . . . 

Then came forward 
Pavloosha Varenko; 

He now rescued Vavil, 

And bought him the boots 
To take home to his grand-child. 
The old man fled blindly, 

But clasping them tightly, 
Forgetting to thank him, 
Bewildered with joy. 

The crowd was as pleased, too, 

As if had been given 
To each one a rouble — 



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MY BOOK HOUSE 


THE GOOD COMRADES OF THE FLYING SHIP 
A Russian Tale 

'J'HERE lived once upon a time in Russia a peasant and his wife, 
x and they had three sons; two were clever, but the third was 
thought a fool. The elder brothers were forever telling him he 
had no wits, and he found himself always treated as of no use 
whatsoever. One day they all heard that a writing had come 
from the Tsar which said: 

“Whoever builds a ship that can fly, to him will I give my 
daughter, the Tsarevna, to wife.” 

The elder brothers resolved to go and seek their fortune, and 
they begged a blessing of their parents. The mother got ready 
their things for the journey, and gave them the best she had in 
the house to eat on the way. Then the fool began to beg them 
to send him off too. His mother told him he should not go. 

“Why shouldst thou go?” said his mother. “Dost thou think 
thou canst do what wiser men cannot?’ 

But the fool was always singing the same refrain, “I think I 
can! I want to go!” 

At length his mother saw she could do nothing with him, so 
she gave him a poor crust of black bread and sent him out. The 
fool went and went, and at last he met an old man. They greeted 
each other, and the old man asked, “Where art thou going?” 

“Look now,” said the fool, “the Tsar has promised to give 
his daughter to him who shall make a flying ship!” 

“And canst thou make such a ship?” 

“No, I cannot, but I’ll get it made for me somewhere.” 

“And where is that somewhere?” 

“God only knows.” 

“ Well, in that case, sit down here, rest and eat a bit. Share 
with me what thou hast in thy knapsack.” 

“Nay, it is such stuff that I am ashamed to share it with thee.” 

184 


through fairy halls 

Nonsense ! Take it out ! What God has given is quite 
good enough to be eaten.” 

The fool undid his knapsack and could hardly believe his 
eyes. There, instead of the dry crust of brown bread, lay white 
rolls and divers savory meats, and he gave of it to the old man. 
So they ate together and the old man said to the fool: 

“Go into the wood, straight up to the first tree. Strike the 
trunk with thine axe, then fall with thy face to the ground and 
wait till thou art aroused. Thou wilt see before thee a ship quite 
ready. Sit in it and fly, and whomsoever thou dost meet on the 
road, gather him up and give him a lift on his journey.” 

So our fool blessed the old man, took leave of him, and went 
into the wood. He went up to the first tree and did exactly as 
he had been commanded. He struck the trunk with his axe, fell 
with his face to the ground and went to sleep. In a little while, 
something or other awoke him. The fool rose up and saw the 
ship quite ready beside him. Without loss of time, he got into 
it, and the ship flew up into the air. It flew and flew and look!— 
there on the road below a man was lying with his ear to the earth. 

“Good day, uncle!” cried the fool. 

“Good day!” 

“What art thou doing?” 

“ I am listening to what is going on in 
the world.” 

“Art thou traveling?” 

“Yea.” 

“Then take a seat in the ship beside m 
I’ll give thee a lift on thy journey.” 

So the man got into the ship and they flew on further. They 
flew and flew and look! — a man was coming along hopping on 
one leg, with the other leg tied tightly to his ear. 

“Good day, uncle! Why art thou hopping on one leg?” 

185 



MY BOOK HOUSE 


“Why, if I were to untie the other, I should 
stride around half the world at a single stride, so 
long are my steps!” 

“Then take a seat in the ship beside me.” 

So the man got into the ship and they flew on 
further. They flew and flew and look! — a man was 
standing with a gun and taking aim, but at what 
they could not see. 

“Good day, uncle, at what art thou aiming?” 

“ Oh, I’m aiming at a mark the size of a pea at a distance of 
one hundred leagues. That’s what I call shooting!” 

“Art thou traveling?” 

“Yea!” 

“Then take a seat in the ship beside me. 

I’ll give thee a lift on thy journey.” 

So the man sat down and they flew on. They 
flew and flew and look! — a man was walking in 
the forest, and on his shoulders was a bundle of 
wood. 

“Good day, uncle, why art thou dragging wood about?” 

“Oh, but this is not common wood!” 

“Of what sort is it, then?” 

“It is of such a sort that if it be scattered, a whole army will 
spring up.” 

“Take a seat with us, then. I’ll give thee a lift on thy journey.” 

So he also sat down with them and they flew on further. 
They flew and flew and look !— a man was carrying a sack of straw. 

“Good day, uncle, whither art thou carrying that straw?” 

“To the village.” 

“Is there little straw in the village, then?” 

“Nay, but this straw is of such a kind that if it be scattered 
on the hottest summer day, cold will at once set in, with snow 
and frost.” 




1 86 


through fairy halls 


Take a seat with us then. I’ll give thee a lift on thy journey.” 

So they flew and flew and soon they flew into the Tsar’s court- 
yard. The Tsar was sitting at table when he saw the flying 
ship drop down from the sky just outside his window. In great 
surprise, he sent his servant to ask who it was that had accom- 
plished the task. 


The servant went to the ship and looked and brought back 
word to the Tsar that it was but a miserable little peasant who 
was flying the ship. The Tsar fell a-thinking. He did not wish 
to give his daughter to a simple peasant, so he began to consider 
how he could rid himself of such a son-in-law. 

“I will set him a task he can never perform,” thought he. 

Immediately he called his servant and bade him say to the 
fool: “Thou shalt get thy master, the Tsar, some of the living 




MY BOOK HOUSE 

and singing water from the other end of the world. And mind 
that thou bringest it here before the end of the meal which he is 
even now eating. Shouldst thou fail to do this, thou shalt pay 
for it with thy life.” 

Now at the very time when the Tsar was giving this command 
to his servant, the first comrade whom the fool had taken into 
the ship (that is to say Sharp-ear) -heard what the Tsar said and 
told it to the fool. 

“What shall I do now?” said the fool. “If I travel for my 
whole life I shall never get to the other end of the world, let alone 
bringing the water here before the imperial meal is over.” 

“Never fear,” said Swift-of-foot, “I’ll manage it for thee.” 

The servant came and made known the Tsar’s commands. 

“Say I’ll fetch it,” replied the fool, and Swift-of-foot untied 
his leg from his ear, ran off and in a twinkling was at the other 
end of the earth. There he got the living and singing water. 

“I must make haste and return presently,” said he, “but I’ve 
plenty of time for a nap first.” And he sat down under a water- 
mill and went to sleep. 

The Tsar’s dinner was drawing to a close. He was eating 
dessert and was just putting his last sweetmeat to his lips, still 
Swift-of-foot did not turn up, so it appeared that all hope was 
lost for the fool. But Sharp-ear bent down to the earth and 
listened. 

“Oh ho!” he cried, “Swift-of-foot has fallen asleep beneath 
the mill. I can hear him snoring.” 

Then Hit-the-mark seized his gun and fired a shot into the 
mill just above the sleeper’s head. The noise awoke Swift-of- 
foot, who took one great stride and there he was back at the 
ship with the water. The Tsar was just ready to rise from the 
table, when the fool laid the water at his feet. 

At this the Tsar was astounded. He saw he must think of 


1 88 


through fairy halls 

some other way to get rid of the fool, so he sent his servant to 
bade him prepare for his wedding. 

First go to the bath-room assigned thee, and have a good 
wash,” he ordered. 

Now this bath-room was made of cast-iron, and the Tsar 
commanded that it should be heated hotter than hot. So they 
heated the bath red hot. The fool went to wash himself, but 
when he drew near and felt the waves of heat that came forth 
from the door, he summoned the comrade with the straw. 

“I must strew the floor,” said the comrade. So both were 
locked into the bath-room, the comrade scattered the straw, 
the room at once became icy cold, and the water in the bath 
froze, so the fool could scarcely wash himself properly. He crept 
up onto the stove and there he passed the whole night. 

In the morning servants opened the door of the bath and they 
found the fool alive and well, lying on the stove, and singing songs 

They brought word thereof to the Tsar. The Tsar was now 
sore troubled. He did not know how to get rid of the fool. He 
thought and thought, and at length he commanded the fool to 
produce a whole army of his own. 

“How will a simple peasant be able to gather an army?” 
thought he, “he will surely fail this time.” 

The servant came to the fool and said: “If thou wilt have 
the Tsarevna, thou must, before morning, put a whole army on 
foot.” 

As soon as the fool heard this, he said: 

“You have delivered me from my straits more than once, 
my friends, but it is plain that nothing can be done now.” 

Thou art a pretty fellow,” said the man with the bundle 
of wood. “Why, thou hast clean forgotten me!” 

So the fool took courage again and sent this word to the Tsar: 

“I agree; I shall raise up the army our master, the Tsar, 
189 


MY BOOK HOUSE 


demands of me. But tell him that should he again refuse to keep 
his word with me, with the very army he bids me raise, I shall 
conquer his whole kingdom.” 

At night the fool’s companion went out into the fields, took 
his bundle of wood, and began scattering the fagots in different 
directions. Immediately a countless army sprang up, both horse 
and foot. In the morning the Tsar saw it, a multitude in arms, 
swarming over his whole country side, and then at last he cried: 

“I am forced to yield; such an army as this could conquer 
my whole kingdom!” 

So he sent in all haste to the fool with gifts of precious orna- 
ments and raiment, and bade him come to be welcomed at court 
and married to the Tsarevna. 

The fool attired himself in these costly garments. Then he 
richly repaid the friends who had proven such good comrades 
and was off to the Tsar. That same day he wedded the Tsarevna 
and lived henceforth with her at court. It now appeared that 
he was no fool at all, as men had thought him, but in truth a wise 
and clever young man. So the Tsar and Tsarevna grew very 
fond of him and it was soon his wisdom that was governing the 
kingdom. 





190 



THROUGH FAIRY HALLS 



PIGLING AND HER PROUD SISTER 
A Korean Cinderella Tale 
William Eliot Griffis 

Pear Blossom had been the name of a little Korean maid 
who was suddenly left motherless. When her father, Kang 
Wa, who was a magistrate high in office, married again, he took 
for his wife a proud widow whose daughter, bom to Kang Wa, 
was named Violet. Mother and daughter hated housework 
and made Pear Blossom clean the rice, cook the food and attend 
the fire in the kitchen. They were hateful in their treatment 
of Pear Blossom, and, besides never speaking a kind word, called 
her Pigling, or Little Pig, which made the girl weep often. 

191 



MY BOOK HOUSE 

It did no good to complain to her father, for he was always 
busy. He smoked his yard-long pipe and played checkers hour 
by hour, apparently caring more about having his great white 
coat properly starched and lustred than for his daughter to be 
happy. His linen had to be beaten with a laundry club until 
it glistened like hoar frost. 

Poor Pigling had to perform this task of washing, starching 
and glossing, in addition to the kitchen work, and the rat-tat- 
tat of her laundry stick was often heard in the outer room till 
after midnight, when the heartless mother and daughter had 
long been asleep. 

There was to be a great festival in the city and for many 
days preparations were made in the house to get the father ready 
in his best robe and hat, and the women in their finery, to go 
out and see the king and the royal procession. 

Poor Pigling wanted very much to have a look at the 
pageant but the mother, setting before her a huge straw bag 
of unhulled rice and a big cracked water jar, told her she must 
husk all the rice, draw water from the well, and fill the crock 
to the brim before she dared to go out on the street. 

What a task to hull with her fingers three bushels of rice 
and fill up a leaky vessel! Pigling wept bitterly. 

While she was brooding thus and opening the straw bag to 
begin spreading the rice out on mats, she heard a whir and rush 
of wings and down came a flock of pigeons. They first lighted 
on her head and shoulders, and then hopping to the floor began 
diligently to work with beak and claw, and in a few minutes 
the rice lay in a heap, clean, white and glistening, while with 
their pink toes they pulled away the hulls and put these in a 
separate pile. Then, after a great chattering and cooing, the 
flock was off and away. 

Pigling was so amazed at this wonderful work of the birds 


192 


THROUGH FAIRY HALLS 

that she scarcely knew how to be thankful enough. But, alas, 
there was still the cracked crock to be filled. Just as she took 
hold of the bucket to begin, there crawled out of the fire hole 
a sooty black imp, named Tokgabi. 

Don t cry, he squeaked out. “I’ll mend the broken part 
and fill the big jar for you.” Forthwith, he stopped up the 
crack with clay, and pouring a dozen buckets of water from the 
well into the crock, filled it to brimming so the water spilled 
over on all sides. Then Tokgabi bowed and crawled into the 
flues again, before the astonished girl could thank her helper. 

So Pigling had time to dress in her plain but clean clothes. 
She went off and saw the royal banners and the king’s grand 
procession of thousands of loyal men. 

The next time, Violet and her mother planned a picnic 
on the mountain. So the refreshments were prepared and 
Pigling had to work hard in starching the dresses to be worn 
— jackets, long skirts, belts, sashes, and what not. until 



!93 


MY BOOK HOUSE 


and cheering her, the heartless woman told Pigling she must 
not go out until she had hoed all the weeds in the garden and 
pulled up all the grass between the stones of the walk. 

Again the poor girl’s face was wet with tears. She was left 
at home alone, while the others went off in fine clothes, with 
plenty to eat and drink, for a day of merrymaking. 

While she wept thus, a huge black cow came along and out 
of its great liquid eyes seemed to beam compassion upon the 
kitchen slave. Then, in ten mouthfuls, the animal ate up the 
weeds, and, between its hoof and lips, soon made an end of the 
grass in the stone pathway. 

With her tears dried, Pigling followed this wonderful brute 
out over the meadows into the woods, where she found the most 
delicious fruit her eyes ever rested upon. She tasted and enjoyed, 
feasting to the full and then returned home. 

When Violet heard of the astonishing doings of the black 
cow, she determined to enjoy a feast in the forest also. So 
on the next gala-day she stayed home and let the kitchen 
drudge go to see the royal parade. Pigling could not under- 
stand why she was excused, even for a few hours, from the pots 
and kettles, but she was still more surprised by the gift from 
her stepmother of a rope of cash to spend for dainties. Gratefully 
thanking the woman, she put on her best clothes and was soon 
on the main street of the city enjoying the gay sights and look- 
ing at the happy people. There were tight rope dancing, music 
with drum and flute by bands of strolling players, tricks by con- 
jurers and mountebanks, with mimicking and castanets, postur- 
ing by the singing girls and fun of all sorts. Boys peddling 
honey candy, barley sugar and sweetmeats were out by the 
dozen. At the eating-house. Pigling had a good dinner of fried 
fish, boiled rice with red peppers, turnips, dried persimmons, roast- 
ed chestnuts and candied orange, and felt as happy as a queen. 

194 


THROUGH FAIRY HALLS 

The selfish Violet had stayed home, not to relieve Pigling 
of work, but to see the wonderful cow. So, when the black 
animal appeared and found its friend gone, it went off into the 
forest. Violet at once followed in the tracks of the cow 
that took it into its head to go very fast, and into unpleasant 
places. Soon the girl found herself in a swamp, wet, miry and 
full of brambles. Still hoping for wonderful fruit, she kept on 
until she was tired out and the cow was no longer to be seen. Then, 
muddy and bedraggled, she tried to go back, but the thorny 
bushes tore her clothes, spoiled her hands and so scratched her 
face that when at last, she got home, she was in rags and her 
beauty gone. 

But Pigling, rosy and round, looked so lovely that a young 
man from the south, who saw her that day, was struck by her 
beauty. As he wanted a wife, he immediately sought to find 
out where she lived. Then he secured a go-between who visited 
both families and made all arrangements for the betrothal and 
marriage. 

Grand was the wedding. The groom, Su-wen, was dressed 
in white and black silk robes, with a rich horsehair cap and head- 
dress denoting his rank as a gentleman. 

Charming, indeed, looked Pear Blossom, in her robe of bro- 
cade. Dainty were her red kid shoes curved upward at the toes. 

So with her original name now restored, and henceforth 
called Ewa, or Pear Blossom, the daughter of Kang Wa was 
to be Mrs. Su-Wen. 

Leaving her home in a palanquin borne by four lusty bearers, 
Pear Blossom went forth to live amid rich rice fields of a south- 
ern province. Her home was with a father and mother-in-law, 
who, having no other children but their one son, became very 
fond of their new daughter. Summer after summer the pear 
trees bloomed and Ewa, the Pear Blossom, lived ever happily. 


*95 


sm 


MY BOOK HOUSE 



A TRAGIC STORY 

There lived a sage in days of yore, 

And he a handsome pigtail wore; 

But wondered much, and sorrowed more, 
Because, it hung behind him. 

He mused upon the curious case, 

And swore he’d change the pigtail’s place, 
And have it hanging at his face, 

Not dangling there behind him. 

Says he, “The mystery I’ve found — 

I’ll turn me round,’’ — he turned him round; 
But still it hung behind him. 


Then round and round, and out and in, 
All day the puzzled sage did spin; 

In vain — it mattered not a pin, 

The pigtail hung behind him. 


And right, and left, and round about, 
And up, and down, and in, and out 
He turned; but still the pigtail stout 
Hung steadily behind him. 


And though his efforts never slack, 

And though he twist, and twirl, and tack, 

Alas! still faithful to his back, 

The pigtail hangs behind him. 

— Albert von Chamisso. 

(Translated by William Makepeace Thackeray.) 


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THROUGH FAIRY HALLS 



ARUMAN, A HERO OF JAVA 

On the island of Java, that rises like a garden a-bloom from 
the blue Indian Ocean, there lived once in the long, long ago, a 
boy called Amman. Now Amman’s mother was dead. It was 
his good old baboo or nurse, named Sumarr, who had brought 
him up. When he was a baby, Sumarr carried him close against 
her breast in the sash that hung from her shoulders. She wreathed 
his little brown body with garlands of jessamine flowers; she made 
him toy umbrellas of white tanjong blossoms; she played with 
him and loved him as tenderly as a mother. And when evening 
came, she crooned him to sleep with a queer, little, one-toned 
song like the rustling of reeds in the wind. Then she spread out 
her small strip of matting on the floor, and lay down to sleep 
beside his bed, like some faithful dog guarding its ma ster. 

So, though Amman had no mother, his childhood was happy. 
But one day, while he was still a young lad, there was much 
noise of many people stirring about in his father’s house, and to- 
ward’s evening a grand procession came up to the door. There 
were men on hobby horses beating strange musical instmments; 
an orchestra of bells, dmms, kettles and viols; wooden figures 
of a giant and giantess, carried by men and seeming to walk 
of themselves; women with paper birds, flowers, and tall fans 
of peacock feathers. Then, borne high on the shoulders of four 
men, a great litter, in which rode three flower-wreathed maidens, 
and behind all, on horseback — Drahman, Amman’s father. 


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“It is a wedding procession, Sumarr! What does it mean?” 
asked Aruman. 

“Ah, little cricket,” answered the good baboo, “it means 
that thy father has brought thee home a new mother. Up there 
she sits in the litter with her maids. Ma Qualoan is her name.” 

Now Ma Qualoan had not long taken her place in Drahman’s 
household before she began to show a great dislike for Aruman. 
Her heart was hard and she could not bear that Aruman should 
have any share in his father’s love. 

“ ’Tis a lazy lad of thine,” she would say to Drahman, “lazy 
and gluttonous. All day long he does nothing but eat and 
sleep. Fie for shame! He has no knowledge of the sacred 
writings. He will not study and he knows not right from wrong !” 

So Ma Qualoan went on till Aruman was shut out of his 
father’s heart altogether. Aruman must live with the servants, 
A mman must eat scraps from his father’s table, Aruman should 
have less of the light of his father’s eyes than Drahman’s pet 
cock! And when Aruman did at last make his way to Drahman 
throw himself at his feet and beg that his love should return, 
Drahman drove the boy with harsh words out of his presence. 

In great distress Aruman fled to Sumarr, and on her faithful 
bosom, poured forth all his grief. Sumarr soothed him as best 
she could and went herself to Drahman to plead for the child, 
but her words, too, were in vain. 

“Thou hast brought up a son who is a disgrace to me,” cried 
Drahman. “Get thee out of my sight!” 

At last, from all Ma Qualoan told him, Drahman grew fear- 
ful lest Aruman should do some deed so wicked as to bring 
shame upon him, so he determined to rid himself of the child. 

It happened that Aruman wandered one day alone into the 
forest. A fragrant shower of white blossoms floated down from 
the tanjong branches about him; red and orange flowers dropped 

I98 


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from the flame-of-the-forest and lay like red embers on his path, 
but Aruman, who loved the flowers so well, had no eyes for them 
today. He was thinking only how he had been shut out from his 
father s heart. So he sat himself down sadly beneath the spread- 
ing branches of a giant waringen tree near a stream and wept. 
Soon, as he sat there, lo! he saw his father come toward him. 
Aruman rose in respectful greeting, but Drahman stood sternly 
still, pointing one finger toward the mass of small trunks that 
formed the giant trunk of the waringen tree. 

“Like the waringen tree, I hoped my sons would be,” said 
Drahman, “countless in number, sturdy, upright and all joined 
as one to mine honor. But lo! I have only thee who disgrace 
me. So saying, he seized the child, bound him with ropes, 
and cast him into the river, crying, “Begone forever.” 

“Father, Father,” shrieked the boy, but the stream bore him 
on and away, on, on and away. 

Presently, as he floated along, he came upon an alligator and 
a fish who were lurking in the river. 

“Ah,” he cried to the two, “swallow me up, for who is there 
left in the world to care?” 

But the alligator and the fish, after a single glance at the 
lad, cried, as with one voice: 

“Swallow such a one as you? Nay! that will we never do! 
You are destined to do great deeds in the world, and we will not 
swallow, but help you.” So they guided him in safety to the 
bank of the stream and there loosed him from the cords by which 
he was bound. 

“Stay a moment,” said the alligator as he disappeared in a 
deep part of the water. “I have that in my keeping which has 
long waited for just such a lad as you.” And he soon reappeared 
bearing a pair of tumpak cunchang — that is to say, floating shoes. 
“With these,” said he, as Aruman bound them on his feet, “you 


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can walk upon the waves of the broadest rivers and the deepest 
ocean as easily as though you were on dry land”. 

“In that case,” said Amman, “I will make good use of the shoes.” 

So Amman thanked the alligator and the fish for their kind- 
ness, and stepped out boldly and confidently upon the water. 

He found it to be quite tme, as the alligator had said, that 
he could walk easily on the waves, so he made his way down 
the river as far as the ocean. And when he saw the boundless 
blue of the sea stretching off before him, nothing would do but 
he must venture even out onto that. As he wandered along 
at a great distance from land, enjoying his new accomplishment, 
he presently caught sight of a vessel coming toward him. At the 
same moment he himself was observed by the Nakoda, or captain, 
who seeing a small boy walking on the surface of the water, could 
scarcely believe his eyes. As Amman drew nearer, however, Na- 
koda invited the lad aboard and ordered him to be served with 
the sailors’ usual repast, namely rice and salt fish. 

During the meal, of which the child partook plentifully, he 
recounted his adventures and sorrows to the captain and the crew, 
his story calling forth the sympathy and interest of all who heard. 
In the meantime the eye of the Nakoda had discovered the tumpak 


200 



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cunchang which Amman wore, and he at once began to think 
how he could contrive to obtain them. 

“What use are those shoes to you, boy?” said he. “Mark 
my words, some day when you feel the safest, you’ll sink. Give 
them to me and I will let you have in exchange my flying cloak. 
Wrapped in that, you can fly in safety over land and sea; you can 
skim over the water like a swallow or soar up into the very clouds 
like a strong-winged kite.” 

“Very well,” said the boy, “give me the cloak and here are 
my shoes.” 



So the bargain was struck and the exchange made. Now 
the cloak had indeed been given to the captain long ago as a 
flying cloak, but, though he had often wrapped it about him 
and tried timidly and cautiously to fly, he had never been able 
to lift himself off the ground. So he had concluded the garment 
was useless and was more than willing to trade it. Yet the 
moment that Amman stepped confidently forth in it, with never 
a doubt that he could do what the captain said, he darted up 
through the air like a bird, and soared like a strong-winged kite. 

“Now who would have thought it?” mumbled Nakoda, as he 
watched the boy. Then he started out in the shoes. He had 
gone uncertainly some little distance, when, in a 
sudden panic of fear, he began to sink. The 
shoes would bare him up no longer the moment 
he was afraid. Down sank Nakoda beneath the 


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MY BOOK HOUSE 

waves, and only because he was an expert swimmer, was he ever 
able to regain his boat, where his crew pulled him, exhausted, 
up onto the deck. 

Aruman, who had hovered about above and perceived the 
captain’s sad plight, approached the vessel and looked down in 
friendly compassion, but Nakoda, vexed beyond words at all 
that had happened, began to cry out: 

“Cheat! rogue! you have robbed me of my wonderful cloak! 
Your shoes are worthless!” 

Aruman laughed good-naturedly at this unmerited chiding but 
the captain steered his vessel close to land, and, getting into a 
small boat, made the shore, where he loudly challenged the boy 
to meet him in single combat. At this Aruman descended to the 
ground, still without anger, and spoke courteously, hoping to ap- 
pease the wrath of the captain without fighting. But Nakoda was 
by this time so beside himself that he would not listen to reason. 

“Come on! Come on!” he cried, “I’ll soon do for you, little 
wretch!” And he drew his kriss, flourishing it in great style, 
and rushing furiously upon the lad, never dreaming of any diffi- 
culty in a duel with such a youngster. But he was mistaken. 
Aruman, though young, could not be roused to anger. He 
managed his weapon with such coolness and courage that he soon 
had the wrathful captain entirely at his mercy. When the man 
had been brought to his knees and forced to acknowledge that 
he alone was to blame for the bargain he had made, Aruman 
left him and flew off in the direction of his father’s dwelling. 

He passed over valleys and forests, till he came at last into a 
strange and gloomy country, where, under the sombre branches 
of giant trees, numberless caverns yawned before him. Wonder- 
ing what could be within such bottomless pits he descended and 
looked into one. The mouth of it was so black that it seemed to be 
the entrance into a region of endless night. But while he stood, 


202 


THROUGH FAIRY HALLS 


gazing into it, a figure suddenly appeared, lighting up the recess 
with a weird red light. As it left the cavern and drew near him, 
the figure seemed to be that of a wrinkled old woman, bearing a 
queer ill-favored, black bird in one bony hand. She held the bird 
over her head for a moment, then, mumbling some strange words, 
she opened her hand and the creature flew away, making circles 
in the air as it mounted, and ever and anon taking the form of a 
man on whose face was the expression of one in deep sorrow and 
regret for some evil deed he had done. 

Before these strange apparitions, the boy stood his ground as 
firmly and confidently as he had before the captain. Then the 
weird woman began throwing pebbles on the ground that turned 
into little headless dwarfs to dance and swarm about him, but 
Amman extended his arm with a gesture of command and lo! 
all the grotesque phantoms vanished. Then there appeared 
in their place a beautiful vision — a maiden lovely as the dawn, 
wreathed in flowers and smiling on him. Her Amman would 
gladly have kept before his eyes, but in another moment she, 
too, had faded away and he was left alone. 

Slowly he turned to grope his way out of the darkness. His 
foot slipped on the marshy ground, he became entangled in thorn 
bushes, he stumbled over rocks and stones. But, though he 
knew it not, the woman whom he had thought a witch, was a 
good fairy, watching over him unseen. Having satisfied herself 
that he was a brave and dauntless boy, she despatched two tigers 
to walk on either side of him, and by the light of their eyes, which 
shone like lamps, he was guided out of the jungles. 

Amman now made straight for his father’s home, and when he 
was come as far as the great waringen tree, whence his father had 
cast him into the stream, he saw Drahman himself standing on 
the spot where he had committed his wicked deed. For the first 
time anger surged up in Amman’s heart. He seized his father 


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roughly by the shoulder and drew his kriss, but as his father 
turned his face toward him, lo! there was in his features the same 
expression of sorrow and regret for what he had done, that the 
strange black bird had revealed to Amman in the land of phan- 
toms. Slowly Amman released the wretched man. 

“Ah,” he cried, “if that is how thou art punished in thine 
own heart, then go and wash thy heart clean in the waters of 
Zem-Zem. Amman forgives thee.” 

“I go, my son !” cried Drahman and fled from Amman’s presence. 

Amman then went on to his old home, where he found Ma 
Qualoan sitting in the portico, counting over the jewelled orna- 
ments which Drahman had showered upon her. At sight of her, 
thus employed, the boy was tempted, as he had been in the case 
of his father, to fall upon her with his kriss, but, recalling once 
again the strange vision of the bird, he restrained himself, and did 
no more than suddenly show himself before her. 

Seeing him, whom she had wronged, thus so unexpectedly 
returned, Ma Qualoan fell prostrate before him. He passed her 
by without a word and went on to find the good Sumarr. 

In the night that followed, some unseen force carried Ma 


204 


THROUGH FAIRY HALLS 

Qualoan into the forest. There she was chained with invisible 
c ains to a great rock overlooking a pool wherein she saw clearly 
reflected all her own wicked deeds. 

For some time Amman lived on quietly in his home attended 
by the faithful Sumarr. But the news of his exploits and his 
sorrows at length reached the ears of the King of Java, who 
invited the daring boy— now grown a fine youth— to live in his 
palace. There, to his great astonishment, Amman again beheld 
the lovely maiden of his vision in the forest. She was the daughter 
of the King and in time she became his bride. Then his good old 
baboo, Sumarr, went to live with him at the palace. Some years 
later, Amman himself became King of Java. He was a wise and 
just King and reigned long and happily with his beautiful Queen. 
To this day he is a favorite hero with the people of Java and his 
adventures are often acted by them in plays or recounted in 
puppet shows with little puppets of gilded leather. 


A MALAYAN MONKEY SONG* 
(Kra is the monkey) 

He mns along the branches, Kra! 

Carrying off fruit with him, Kra! 

Over the seraya trees, Kra! 

Over the rambutan trees, Kra! 

Over the live bamboos, Kra! 

Peering forward, Kra! 

And dangling downward, Kra! 

He mns along the branches and hoots, Kra! 
Peering forward, Kra! 

Among the young fmit trees, Kra! 

And showing his grinning teeth, Kra! 



—Translated from, the Semang {Malay Peninsula) by Skeat and Blagden. 

^Reprinted through the courtesy of The Macmillan Company. 

205 


MY BOOK HOUSE 

THE FISHERMAN WHO CAUGHT THE SUN 
A Hawaiian Legend 

AR across the blue Pacific Ocean, on the mountainous 
little island of Hawaii, a brown Hawaiian mother sat before 
a tiny straw-thatched hut, and told her little brown child- 
ren stories. Before her the great round sun was sinking 
toward the ocean. Out on the water were big brown boys in their 
queer shaped canoes; others were swimming about, and some were 
riding the waves, standing up straight and balancing in a wonder- 
ful fashion on narrow boards that were carried landwards, rocking, 
and rolling, on the curling crests of the waves. 

The younger children were all at home and grouped about 
their mother. They had decked themselves out gaily with gar- 
lands of flowers and long strings of colored seeds as they dearly 
loved to do, and, while they watched the setting sun, their mother 
told them, in the soft, musical Hawaiian tongue, an old Hawaiian 
tale: 

“Many, many years ago, the Sun used to burst forth from the 
ocean at dawn and race so swiftly across the sky, that he would 
fling himself over the top of the great fire mountain and sink down 
again into the ocean before half a day’s work was done. Sunset 
followed so quickly on sunrise that men began to complain: 

“ ‘Alas! The Sun, in his headlong haste, is cheating us of our 
due. We have not daylight enough to finish our hunting and 
fishing, to build our canoes, and gather our yams and bananas and 
cocoanuts. Night comes on and finds our work but half done.’ 

“Then there rose up a brave Fisherman and he said; ‘I shall 
go to the Sun and teach him to make his journey as he should. 
He shall no more bolt across the sky at any pace he may choose.’ 

“The Fisherman’s friends began to wail, and bid him remember 
what it meant to face such a powerful foe as the Sun. 
But the Fisherman never once stopped plaiting long ropes to make 

206 



THROUGH FAIRY HALLS 

a snare, and he said; ‘I do not fear the Sun. In this snare I shall 
catch him.’ 

So when the Sun had run his mad race for the day and left 
the world to night, the Fisherman got into his canoe and sailed 
out into the Eastern ocean. Far he sailed and farther through 
the shadows, down the silvery path that the moon lit up across 
the dark waste of the waters. Thus he came to the very edge of 
the earth, to the spot where the Sun would soon burst forth when 
he rose from under the ocean. And there he set his snare, gripping 
tight in his hands the ends of the rope from which he had made it. 

“Soon the moon set and the world was wrapped in darkness. 
Then the Fisherman sat in his rocking canoe on the edge of the 
world and waited. At last the darkness faded into gray; bright 
jewels of light flashed now and again from the ocean. Purple and 
rose appeared in the sky and lo! a small rim of the sun peeped up 
to touch the white crests of the waves into fire and set all the 
ocean aflame. 

“Still the Fisherman sat in his rocking canoe on the edge of the 
world and waited. In another moment a flood of gold streamed 
over the earth and the whole great Sun burst forth to begin his 
wild race across the sky. But ah! he had bolted straight into the 
snare and was tangled close in its meshes. Then the Fisherman 
rose in his canoe, and pulled tight the ropes in his hand. The 
great Sun raged! He flared and flamed, but the Fisherman held 
on fast. 

“ ‘Sun,’ he cried, undaunted, ‘from this day forth, you shall 
travel at proper speed. You shall no more do as you please and 
race at your own headlong pace across the sky. You shall give 
man a day that is long enough so he may finish his hunting and 
fishing, build his canoes and gather his yams and bananas and 
cocoanuts.’ 

“The rage of the Sun grew scorching, withering, blasting. He 
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struggled with all his might to be free. But the Fisherman braced 
his feet, balanced his rocking canoe on the waves, and held to the 
ropes with a grip that would never, never yield. At last the Sun 
saw he had met his master. Then he slowly softened his glare and 
stood still. 

“I promise,” he said, “I will race no more at my own headlong 
pace, but will travel at proper speed, slowly, steadily over the sky.” 

“When he had promised thus, the Fisherman set him free, but 
he did not remove from him all of the ropes. Some he left fastened 
securely at the edge of the world in order to bind him to keep his 
promise. 

“You shall never again be free to have your own will,” he said. 

Then the Fisherman went back home and his people hailed 
him with music and singing, as one who had been their savior, for 
ever thereafter the Sun kept his word and the days were suffi- 
ciently long for all the work that had need to be done. 

“But to this very day when the Sun rises or when he sets, you 
may still see the ropes hanging down. Look now, as he sinks 
toward the ocean! You say he is drawing water, but I tell you 
those brilliant rays that seem to anchor him to the sea, are in truth 
the meshes of that snare by which the Fisherman bound him.” 



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THROUGH FAIRY HALLS 



A TROPICAL MORNING AT SEA* 

Edward Rowland Sill 

Crests that touch and tilt each other 
Jostling as they comb; 

Delicate crash of tinkling water, 

Broken in pearling foam. 

Off to the East the steady sun-track 
Golden meshes fill — 

Webs of fire, that lace and tangle, 

Never a moment still. 

Sea depths, blue as the blue of violets— 

Blue as a summer sky, 

When you blink at its arch sprung over 
Where in the grass you lie. 

Thinned to amber, rimmed with silver, 

Clouds in the distance dwell, 

Clouds that are cool, for all their color, 

Pure as a rose-lipped shell. 

★Taken from Hermitage and Later Poems. Used by permission of, and special arrangement 
with, Houghton Mifflin Co., the publishers. 


209 


MY BOOK HOUSE 



MY NICARAGUA* 

Salomon de la Selva 

When the Winter comes, I will take you to Nicaragua, 

You will love it there! 

You will love my home, my house in Nicaragua, 

So large and queenly looking, with a haughty air 

That seems to tell the mountains, the mountains of Nicaragua, 

“You may roar and you may tremble, for all I care!” 

It is shadowy and cool; 

Has a garden in the middle where fruit-trees grow, 

And poppies, like a little army, row on row, 

And jasmine bushes that will make you think of snow, 
They are so white and light, so perfect and so frail, 

And when the wind is blowing they fly and flutter so! 

The bath is in the garden, like a sort of pool, 

With walls of honey-suckle and orchids all around. 

The humming-bird is always making a sleepy sound. 

In the night there’s the Aztec nightingale. 

But when the moon is up, in Nicaragua, 

The moon of Nicaragua and the million stars, 

It’s the human heart that sings, and the heart of Nicaragua, 
To the pleading, plaintive music of guitars. 

♦From Tropical Town and other Poems. Copyright 1918, by John Lane Company. 


210 


through fairy halls 



It is late afternoon in my Brazilian garden. The dazzling 
blue of sea and sky which characterizes a tropical noonday has 
become subdued and already roseate tints are beginning to pre- 
pare the glory of the sunset hour. A lizard crawls lazily up the 
whitewashed wall. The song of the sabid, that wonderful 
Brazilian thrush, sounds from the royal palm tree. The air is 
heavy with the perfume of the orange blossom. There is no 
long twilight in the tropics. Night will leap down suddenly 
upon my Brazilian garden from out the glory of the sunset sky. 

Theresa, the ama, stands before us on the terrace under the 
mango trees, and we know that the story hour has come. 
Theresa, daughter of the mud huts under the palm trees, is a 
royal queen of story land. For her the beasts break silence and 
talk like humans. For her all the magic wonders of her tales 
stand forth in living truth. Her lithe body sways backwards 
and forwards to the rhythm of her words as she unfolds her tales 
to us. She is a picture to remember as she stands under the 
mango trees on our terrace. Her spotless white “camiza” is 
decorated with beautiful pillow lace, her own handiwork. Her 
skirt of stiffly starched cotton is red and purple in color. A 
crimson flowered, folded shawl hangs over her right shoulder, 

♦Taken from Fairy Tales from Brazil . Copyright, 1917, by Dodd, Mead & Company, Inc. 

21 1 


MY BOOK HOUSE 

and great strings of beads ornament the ebony of her neck and 
arms. To sit at the feet of Theresa, the ama, is to enter the gate 
of story land. 

“Years and years ago at the very beginning of time, when the 
world had just been made, there was no night. It was day all 
the time. No one had ever heard of sunrise or sunset, starlight 
or moonbeams. There were no night birds, nor night beasts, 
nor night flowers. There were no lengthening shadows, nor 
soft night air, heavy with perfume. 

“In these days the daughter of the GREAT SEA SERPENT, 
who dwelt in the depths of the seas, married one of the sons of 
the great race known as MAN. She left her home among the 
shades of the deep seas and came to dwell with her husband in 
the land of daylight. Her eyes grew weary of the bright sun- 
light and her beauty faded. Her husband watched her with 
sad eyes, but he did not know what to do to help her. 

“ ‘O, if night would only come,’ she moaned as she tossed about 
wearily on her couch. ‘Here it is always day, but in my father’s 
kingdom there are many shadows. O, for a little of the darkness 
of night!’ 

“Her husband listened to her moanings. ‘What is night?’ 
he asked her. ‘Tell me about it and perhaps I can get a little of 
it for you.’ 

“ ‘Night,’ said the daughter of the GREAT SEA SERPENT, 
‘is the name we give to the heavy shadows which darken my 
father’s kingdom in the depths of the seas. I love the sunlight 
of your earth land, but I grow very weary of it. If we could 
have only a little of the darkness of my father’s kingdom to rest 
us part of the time.’ 

“Her husband at once called his three most faithful slaves. 
‘I am about to send you on a journey,’ he told them. ‘You 
are to go to the kingdom of the GREAT SEA SERPENT, who 


212 


THROUGH FAIRY HALLS 

dwells in the depths of the seas, and ask him to give you some 
of the darkness of night, that his daughter may find rest here 
amid the sunlight of our earth land.’ 

“The three slaves set forth for the kingdom of the GREAT 
SEA SERPENT. After a long dangerous journey they arrived 
at his home in the depths of the seas and asked him to give them 
some of the shadows of night to carry back to the earth land. 
The GREAT SEA SERPENT gave them a big bag full at once. 
It was securely fastened and the GREAT SEA SERPENT 
warned them not to open it until they were once more in the 
presence of his daughter, their mistress. 

“ ‘The three slaves started out, bearing the big bag full ofnight 
upon their heads. Soon they heard strange sounds within the 
bag. It was the sound of the voices of all the night beasts, all 
the night birds, and all the night insects. If you have ever 
heard the night chorus from the jungles on the banks of the rivers 
you will know how it sounded. The three slaves had never 
heard sounds like those in all their lives. They were frightened. 

“ ‘Let us drop the bag full of night right here where we are 
and run away as fast as we can,’ said the first slave. 

“ ‘We shall perish. We shall perish, anyway, whatever we 
do,’ cried the second slave. 

“ ‘Whether we perish or not, I am going to open the bag and 
see what makes all those sounds,’ said the third slave. 

Accordingly, they laid the bag on the ground and opened 
it. Out rushed all the night beasts and all the night birds and 
all the night insects and out rushed the great black cloud of 
night. The slaves were more frightened than ever and escaped 
to the jungle. 

“The daughter of the GREAT SEA SERPENT was waiting 
anxiously for the return of the slaves with the bag full of night. 
Ever since they had started out on her journey she had looked 


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MY BOOK HOUSE 



for their return, shading her eyes with her hand and gazing away 
off at the horizon, hoping with all her heart that they would hasten 
to bring the night. In that position she was standing under a 
royal palm tree, when the three slaves opened the bag and let 
night escape. “Night comes. Night comes at last,” she cried, 
as she saw the clouds of night upon the horizon. Then she closed 
her eyes and went to sleep there under the royal palm tree. 

“When she awoke she felt greatly refreshed. She was once 
more the happy princess who had left her father’s kingdom in 
the depths of the great seas to come to the earth land. She was 
now ready to see the day again. She looked up at the bright 
star shining above the royal palm tree and said, ‘O, bright beau- 
tiful star, henceforth you shall be called the morning star and you 
shall herald the approach of day. You shall reign queep of the 
sky at this hour.’ 

“Then she called all the birds about her and said to them, 
‘O, wonderful, sweet singing birds, henceforth I command you 
to sing your sweetest songs at this hour to herald the approach 
of day.’ The cock was standing by her side. ‘You,’ she said 
to him, ‘shall be appointed the watchman of the night. Your 
voice shall mark the watches of the night and shall warn the 


214 


THROUGH FAIRY HALLS 

others that the madrugada comes.’ To this very day in Brazil 
we call the early morning the madrugada. The cock announces 
its approach to the waiting birds. The birds sing their sweetest 
songs at that hour and the morning star reigns in the sky as 
queen of the madrugada. 

When it was daylight again the three slaves crept home 
through the forests and jungles with their empty bag. 

“ ‘O, faithless slaves,’ said their master, ‘why did you not 
obey the voice of the GREAT SEA SERPENT and open the 
bag only in the presence of his daughter, your mistress? Because 
of your disobedience I shall change you into monkeys.. Hence- 
forth you shall live in the trees. Your lips shall bear the mark 
of the sealing wax which sealed the bag full of night.’ 

“To this very day one sees the mark upon the monkey’s lips, 
and in Brazil night leaps out quickly upon the earth just as it 
leaped quickly out of the bag in those days at the beginning of 
time. And all the night beasts and night birds and night insects 
give a sunset chorus in the jungles at nightfall.” 



In her wimple of wind and her slippers of sleep, 
The twilight comes like a little goose-girl. 

Herding her owls with many “Tu-whoos,” 

Her little brown owls in the woodland deep, 

Where dimly she walks in her whispering shoes, 
And gown of shimmering pearl. 

*Used by permission of Madison Cawein, son of the author, and the publishers, 
The Macmillan Company. 

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THE MAN WHO LOVED HAI QUA1 
An Indian Tale of Mt. Tacoma 
"HERE the pines loom dark against the sky, beneath 
the glistening snow peak of the great white Mt. Ta- 
coma, there dwelt once a hunter. In the fragrant pine 
woods he followed the game; he fished in the rivers and 
in the placid lake where Tacoma stands upside down in the water. 
But more than all else he loved hai quai — glittering strings of 
shells — shell money — treasure, treasure, treasure. There came a 
time when he thought of nothing but hai quai. He would steal 
the lip- jewels of women, he would snatch little strings from the 
children’s necks, and he longed to learn of some magic, by which 
he could heap up still more of the treasure. Ah, then the evil 
one came and dwelt in his heart and whispered to him always, 
“Hai quai! More hai quai!” 

One day the hunter stood on the shore of the lake dreaming 
of shell money, when there came to him out of the forest, Moos- 
Moos, the great Elk, his tahmahnawis who watched over him. 

“You want hai quai,” said Moos-Moos. “Hearken, I know 
where you will find it, find it in great heaps, more than any red 
man has in all your lodges.” 

The hunter listened eagerly. 

“Go to the very top of the mountain,” said Moos-Moos. 
“Amid the snow on its peak you will find a valley cleft out of 
the rocks, and there lies a lake of black, black water. On the 
shores of this lake rise three giant rocks. One is like a 
salmon, one like the kamas root, and one like me, an Elk. 
Beneath the Elk’s head, dig. There you will find hai quai, great 
s hining strings of hai quai. And when you have it, show your 
thanks to the Great Spirit and to me by placing one string on 
each of the rocks.” 

“I will be rich! Men shall call me Great Chief!” cried the 

2l6 


THROUGH FAIRY HALLS 

hunter, and he bade farewell to the Elk and went back to his 
lodge. “I go away on a long hunt,” he said to his squaw. Then 
he seized his elk-horn pick and set forth. 

Through the dense forests he climbed, by the side of rushing 
mountain brooks, over flowery upland meadows, among mighty 
rocks, where the snow began, past gnarled and twisted trees that 
grew on the edge of the timber, and so on up into the everlasting 
snows. Then darkness overtook him. It was bitter cold. He 
rolled himself in his blanket and lay down to sleep. In his sleep 
he dreamed. He had strings and strings of hai quai hanging 
about his neck. Tighter they grew and tighter, tighter and 
tighter. Ah ! they were choking him. With a wild cry, he awoke. 
It was only a dream, and still he wanted hai quai. 

Before the sun, he was up and on his way once more. Just 
as dawn glowed rosy over the snow, he reached the mountain 
top. There before him, as Moos-Moos had said, was the lake 
of black water and, rising from it, the giant rocks of the salmon, 
the kamas root, and the Elk. Seizing his pick, he began at once 
to dig at the foot of the rock that was shaped like the Elk. All 
day long he worked, digging, eagerly digging, and twelve great 
otters rose up out of the strange dark waters to watch him. 

Just as the sun was sinking he came upon the treasure, great 
heaps of glittering hai quai. His eyes glowed like fire; from his 
lips came weird sounds like the laughter of a loon; deep down 
into the shining shells he dug his hands. He slipped the strings 
over his neck, his arms, he clutched them tight to his bosom. 
He held them up to the light to catch the last gleam of the setting 
sun. He thought not of Moos-Moos, nor of the Great Spirit, 
to offer thanks. He hung no strings on the rocks, but clutching 
them tighter and tighter, he started off down the mountain. 

Then the otters uttered a strange sad cry and dove down 
into the waters, and Tootah, the thunder, in answer, went crash- 


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ing across the sky. The wind began to howl and shriek, snow 
came swirling fiercely down. And still the hunter clutched his 
treasure tight and struggled on and on. 

The storm increased, the wind roared, Tootah, the thunder, 
seemed rending the very heavens. Then the hunter took one 
single string of shells and cast it grudgingly to the winds. “For 
the Great Spirit,” he said. But as he hugged his treasure the 
storm burst more furiously on him. The night and the 
mountain found voices and on every side they shrieked in his 
ear, “Hai quai! Hai quail Hai quail” 

One by one, he cast his precious strings away, and he groaned 
as he did so, as though he gave up a part of himself. At last they 
were gone, those shining strands — he flung the last one from him. 
Then he fell to the ground, exhausted, and his eyelids closed in sleep. 

When he awoke the sun was shining and in his heart was a 
wonderful peace. He found himself at the foot of a tall fir tree, 
the same beneath which he had dropped the night before, and, 
above, the great white mountain smiled graciously upon him. 
He was hungry but as he started to rise, he found his limbs were 
stiff, his clothing was in rags and from his head hung hair as 
white as the snow on Tacoma. Astonished, he looked about him. 
All was the same as it had been the night before, and yet some- 
how it was different. He dug some roots to eat and then started 
slowly down the mountain. 

He thought now no more of hai quai. In his ears was the song 
of birds, in his eyes the golden glow of the sun through the soft 
smoky haze of Indian summer, and in his heart calmness, utter 
peace, like the calmness of the mountain, majestic and serene. 

At length he came to a lodge before which sat a squaw. She 
was old and her hair was white. He knew her not and passed 
her by, yet no! She called him back. Her voice was glad and 
sweet, and lo! it was his own wife and his own lodge! Not two 

218 


THROUGH FAIRY HALLS 



short nights, but years and years had passed since he left her. 

“How many moons you have been gone!” she cried. “I 
have traded much since you went and made much hai quai. 
I will give it all to you.” 

“Nay,” said the old man. “Give me a seat by the lodge 
fire and a welcome. I care not for hai quai, I care only for peace!” 

Then the good squaw was astonished. 

Henceforth the old man sat at his lodge door, pondered much, 
and gave friendly greeting to all who passed him by. To those 
in need he gave hai quai, to those in trouble he gave good counsel, 
and to old and young who sought his advice, his answer was 
always skokum (good). 

So he was much beloved, and there dwelt, evermore un- 
disturbed in his heart, the wisdom, peace and quiet that he 
learned from the great white Tacoma. 


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THE ADVENTURES OF YEHL AND THE BEAMING 
MAIDEN 
An Alaskan Legend 

LL Alaska was once in a dim gray twilight. There 
was neither sun, moon, nor stars in the sky. In 
those days there lived in Alaska a proud and power- 
ful chief, named Chet’l. On the totem pole before 
his lodge was carved the figure of the raven, on 
his deerhom spoons was carved the raven, into 
his blankets was woven the raven, on his canoes 
was painted fhe raven. 

“Chet’l is of the raven clan. Raven keeps guard over Chet’l,” 
said the Chief. But Chet’l was of a dark and stormy mood, 
dark as the midnight sky. Near him lived Nuschagak, his sister, 
and often she suffered beneath his anger. Before her lodge, 
too, rose the totem pole of the raven. 

“Raven keeps guard over quiet one,” said Nuschagak,” not 
over stormy one that always shrieks I ! I ! I ! ” 

Now Chet’l would have none of Nuschagak in his lodge, and 
so there dwelt there no woman. One dim, gray day up rose 
Chet’l and went far, far into the Northland. There in the midst 
of the ice and snow, he saw a maiden of dazzling beauty, more 
beautiful than anything man had ever beheld before. When 
she smiled her face beamed and fight streamed forth on all about. 

“Maiden go back with Chet’l to his lodge!” cried the Chief. 
So the Maiden gave him her hand and glided along by his side. 
When they were come to his home, Chet’l gave her rich furs to 
lie on and many precious blankets. He never asked her to make 
the fire or do the work of woman. But, though he loaded her 
with gifts, he wished to keep her all to himself. 

“Keep your smiles alone for Chet’l!” he cried. 



220 


THROUGH FAIRY HALLS 


“Nay,” replied the maiden, “I was not made to make happy 
one only. I smile on all alike. I give my love to all.” 

Then was Chet’l as the storm cloud. 

“Smile on any other,” he roared, “and Chet’l buries you deep, 
where none shall have joy of your beaming!” 

“Ah,” the maiden made answer, “bury me as deep as you like. 
You will only shut yourself out from my smile. You can never 
quench my beaming. I shall go on smiling forever.” 

Then went Chet’l and fetched eight small redbirds.. He 
whispered to them, “Stand guard over this rebellious maid while 
Chet’l goes out hunting. See that she smiles on no one. Thus 
bids thee the great Chet’l.” And he fastened the door of his 
lodge from without and strode away into the forest. 

No sooner was he gone than the maiden rose and went to 
the door. Lo! as she beamed on the solid wood, a little opening 
appeared; she leaned her head through the opening and smiled 
on all who passed. And all on whom she smiled felt warmed 
and cheered and strengthened. 

“We bloom as the young grass,” they cried, “as the grass 
when the snow is gone.” 

Then the little redbirds made great noise and clamor. Out 
they flew by the hole in the roof, through which the smoke escaped 
from the hearth — off and away to tell Chet’l. 

Thundering with anger, his eyes flashing lightnings, back 
came Chet’l. He seized the beautiful maiden and thrust her into 
a great wooden chest. Then he forced down the lid, made fast 
the lock, and carried the chest away to a dark little inner room 
that no one was ever permitted to enter. 

“There,” said he, “now that smile is hid where Chet’l shares 
it with no man.” 

Ah, but the world was dark, and in it was no joy at all for 
Chet’l. All the people began to wail and lament. Never before 
was such darkness. 


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HOUSE 


“Give her back to us, the Maiden-that-beams!” they cried, 
yet Chet’l would not relent and restore to them the maiden. 

Then came to Chet’l Nuschagak, his sister. 

“ Set her free — the Maiden,” said Nuschagak. “ On your totem 
pole the raven frowns — frowns at the deed that Chet’l has done.” 

Up rose Chet’l like a whirlwind! He fell on his sister’s lodge 
and razed it to the ground. The totem pole before her door he 
hacked to bits and cast the raven to the winds. 

“Chet’l cares not for the raven,” he cried. “Chet’l does as 
he pleases. And you, little snarling fox, forth with you into the 
forests, and come no more back to Chet’l, lest he serve you as he 
did the Maiden.” 

In grief and sorrow, Nuschagak wandered down to the sea. 
As she stood there, weeping, lo! a raven appeared before her. 

“Be not sad, good daughter,” said the Raven “You shall 
have a child that will be greater than Chet’l. Train him up to 
be a man and he will yet save you and the Maid.” 

So Nuschagak went away, built a rude lodge in the forest 
and set up before it the totem pole of the raven. Soon there 
came to her a son The child was beautiful and wonderful. In 
ten days he had grown to the 
height of a man and mastered all 
the knowledge that belongs to man- 
hood. Then the mother knew that 
there had come to her Yehl — Yehl, 
the ever-living one, who always was 
and always will be, who appears to 
men in whatsoever form is suited 
best to the need of the time. 


I . 

m 



222 


THROUGH FAIRY HALLS 

When Yehl had made Nuschagak a comfortable lodge and 
gathered for her a goodly store of food, she sent him forth to 
face Chet’l. Straight to the great chief’s lodge went Yehl. 

I am your sister’s son,” said he. Then Chet’l saw that 
he was a goodly youth and dared not do less than bid him wel- 
come, but in his heart he said, “He knows the secret of the Maid. 
I shall soon find means to be rid of him.” 

When there came the dim gray dawn that was all there was 
to the next day’s light, he took Yehl in his canoe and paddled 
out to sea — “to fish for great fish,” said Chet’l. Far, far out he 
went till the shore had long faded from sight, and the waters 
lay black, of boundless depth, beneath their rocking keel. Then 
Chet’l overturned the canoe and plunged Yehl into the deep. 

“Let him find a lodge with the whales,” cried he. “He is 
not welcome to Chet’l!” and he righted his canoe and made his 
way back to shore. 

But Yehl dropped quietly to the bottom of the sea, walked 
safely over the smooth, hard sand and appeared at evening in 
the door of his uncle’s lodge! 

“Hah!” muttered Chet’l. “Some whale must have borne 
him back to shore. Mayhap the whale is his totem! But there 
be other means to put him out of my way.” 

The next day he took Yehl out into the forest. There in 
the midst of a deep dark grove of cypress, spruce and hemlock, 
set up high upon poles, was a great canoe that Chet’l had been 
building. It was hewn of a solid log, and had been burned with 
fire to hollow out the center. 

“Step into the canoe, Son-of-my-sister,” said Chet’l, “and 
chip off the burnt wood about the sides to make the inside smooth.” 

Yehl did as his uncle bade him, but while he was bent over 
at work, Chet’l sent a great log crashing down and pinned him 
in where he sat. 


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“ If whale be your totem,” he jeered, “what can save you now?” 

No sooner was he gone, than Yehl stretched out his arms. 
At that, the canoe fell to pieces and Yehl stepped forth from under 
the log. Then he picked up the different parts of the craft, put 
them together again, and finished it, complete. That evening 
he appeared at the door of ChetTs lodge bearing the great canoe 
on his shoulder. 

Then Chet’l’s tongue was dumb. But when the night was 
come, he crept up to the couch of skins whereon his nephew 
slumbered. “I shall have you yet!” cried he. Just as his hand 
was at the youth’s throat, Yehl turned himself into a raven, 
slipped out of his grasp and flew up into the sky. , 

“Ah, he is the Raven, the Raven himself!” cried Chet’l, and 
he minded how he had cried out that he cared not for the Raven, 
but would do what pleased himself. “No use to contend with 
the Raven!” And he plunged off into the forest. 

Then came Yehl back to the lodge and found his way to the 



224 




THROUGH FAIRY HALLS 

darkened chamber. He groped about in the gloom till he came 
upon a chest. 

“Now,” said he, “at last I shall set free the Maid.” Up 
came the lid beneath his grasp, but out of the chest rose no Maid. 
Instead, there flew forth a glistening flock of tiny white birds 
that darted up into the sky and lo! they became the stars. 

Then Yehl groped about again till he once more fell upon 
something. He pulled up the lid of a second chest. But still 
no maiden appeared. One great silver bird with pale gleaming 
wings soared up into the sky and lo! it became the moon. 

“Yehl will not rest till he finds her!” cried the youth, and 
he searched again till he found a third and last chest. Heavy 
was its lid — far heavier than the others. He forced it up but a 
little way and a light shone forth through the crack, like the first 
faint rose of dawn. As he pulled it higher and higher, the 
light became dazzling gold, streamed forth in boundless splendor 
and flooded all the room. Then up rose the smiling Maiden. 

“Well done, Yehl,” said she. And she floated in shimmering 
glory up to the sky. Behold! She was the Sun. 

Then Yehl rejoiced and Nuschagak rejoiced and all the people 
on earth rejoiced. 

“It is gone— the cold and dark!” they cried. “Light and 
warmth are come! Behold we bloom again like grass when the 
snow is melted!” 

As to Chet’l, when he saw the shining Maid in the sky s milin g 
on all the world, he went off and hid himself in a dark cave on 
Mt. Edgecomb. There he became the Thunder-bird. He is 
still trying to shut up the Sun and keep her from beaming. When 
he comes forth, the flapping of his great wings makes the thunder 
and the flash of his eyes the lightning, but, no matter what walls 
of clouds he builds up to shut in the Sun, her smile always finds a 
way through them, and to this very day, from her place in the 
sky, she beams in gentle radiance on everyone alike. 


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AFAR IN THE DESERT 
(South Africa) 

Thomas Pringle 

Afar in the desert I love to ride, 

With the silent Bush-boy alone by my side. 

Away — away from the dwellings of men, 

By the wild deer’s haunt, by the buffalo’s glen; 

By valleys remote where the oribi plays, 

Where the gnu, the gazelle, and the hartebeest graze, 
And the kudu and eland unhunted recline 
By the skirts of gray forest o’erhung with wild vine; 
Where the elephant browses at peace in his wood, 

And the river-horse gambols unscared in the flood, 

And the mighty rhinoceros wallows at will 
In the fen where the wild ass is drinking his fill. 


226 


THROUGH FAIRY HALLS 


Afar in the desert I love to ride, 

With the silent Bush-boy alone by my side. 

O'er the brown karroo, where the bleating cry 
Of the springbok's fawn sounds plaintively; 

And the timorous quagga's shrill whistling neigh 
Is heard by the fountain at twilight gray; 
Where the zebra wantonly tosses his mane, 

With wild hoof scouring the desolate plain; 

And the fleet-footed ostrich over the waste 
Speeds like a horseman who travels in haste, 
Hieing away to the home of her rest, 

Where she and her mate have scooped their nest, 
Far hid from the pitiless plunderer's view 
In the pathless depths of the parched karroo. 

Afar in the desert I love to ride, 

With the silent Bush-boy alone by my side. 
Away — away — in the wilderness vast 
Where the white man's foot hath never passed, 
And the quivered Coranna or Bechuan 
Hath rarely crossed with his roving clan. 



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THE LOST SPEAR 
A South African Tale 

Once upon a time, when the fairies were still in this land, 
and the black man had not been driven inland away from the 
seashore, a mighty King called all his chiefs together to witness 
a contest between the four strongest, bravest, and handsomest 
young men in his kingdom. The prize was the King’s youngest 
daughter— the black-eyed Lala— and that one of the four who 
should throw the assegai the farthest was to win her for his bride. 

Three of these young men were sons of great chieftains, but 
the fourth was only a poor herdsman. Yet the Princess Lala, 
who stood at her father’s hut, thought him the best of them 
all. A sandy plain that stretched between the mountains was 
chosen, and the four champions stood in a row ready to throw. 
The first threw his assegai so well it fell upright into an ant- 

228 


THROUGH FAIRY HALLS 

hill far, far away. The second assegai stood quivering in the 
bark of a young fir tree many paces beyond the ant hill. The 
spear of the third pierced the breast of a gold and green sugar- 
bird that was fluttering over a tall aloe blossom still further 
away. But the herdsman, who was fourth, threw his assegai so 
vigorously that it flew like a flash of lightning up into the heavens, 
and struck a hawk that was soaring there in search of prey. 

Loud were the acclamations of the people, and they adjudged 
the fourth the winner. The Princess wept for joy, but the King, 
who did not wish his daughter to wed a humble herdsman, said, — 

“Let them throw again with spears that I shall give them. 
This man’s weapon was surely bewitched.” 

So on the morrow the King sent for fresh spears of gold. 
And to the princes were given splendid, equally-balanced ones; 
but the herdsman’s was clumsy and untrue. Again they threw, 
and again the herdsman’s assegai out-distanced those of the 
others. This time it flew into the clouds, and was lost to sight. 

But the King was unjust, and said: “Not till you have found 
the spear, and bring it to my feet, shall you win my daughter, 
the beautiful Lala. Go!” 

The Princess clung to her father and wept, saying she loved 
this gallant herdsman; but the King took her arms from round 
his neck, and bade her go. To disobey the King meant death, 
and the girl went. 

Thus Zandilli, the herdsman, set out in search of the Royal 
assegai. He wandered some days among the mountains, for it 
was in the wind-clouds on their brows the spear had disappeared. 
It was on the fourth day of his wanderings that, whilst he was 
gazing down into the depths of a brown pool, a “butcher-bird” 
fell at his feet, clutching in his talons a tiny green frog. The 
frog cried for help, and Zandilli saved it from the bird. 

The frog expressed its gratitude, and said: “If ever you are 
229 


MY BOOK HOUSE 

in trouble, and think I can help you, close your eyes and call 
to mind this brown pool, and I shall come to your assistance.” 

Zandilli thanked the frog, who then disappeared in the water. 

A little further on he saw a large black and yellow butterfly 
impaled upon a thorn of prickly-pear. He released it, and the 
butterfly said, — 

“I was thrust upon that thorn by a pair of tiny brown hands 
belonging to a little maid with large black eyes. She was cruel but 
you are kind, and I am grateful. If ever you are in difficulty 
or danger call me, and I shall be at your service.” 

Then the glorious insect spread its wings, and flew away to 
play with its mates among the crimson orchids. 

Night was approaching on the fifth day, and still the lost 
spear had not been found. It was a warm summer’s night, and 
the moon rose, a great ball of crimson fire, from out the fog in 
the east. Zandilli was anxious to find some shelter for the night, 
and to that end entered a narrow gorge, through which trickled 
a tiny stream. It was very dark in this ravine. Its walls were 
high, he fell in deep water-holes, and stumbled over slippery 
boulders; but Zandilli persevered, knowing how often small 
caves are found in these ravines. And such a cave at last he came 
upon. The moon, now clear of the fog, had floated up into the 
heavens, and shone into the gorge, lighting up its western wall. 
Into a large cavity her light fell in a broad pathway of silver. 

Zandilli entered boldly ; he, who had lived among the mountains 
all his life, knew no fear. The light of the moon did not enter 
very far into the cave, and he was too tired to explore the dark- 
ness beyond, so he lay down to rest, with his spear close at hand. 

He awoke to find the cave in total darkness, and a strange 
soft music greeted his ears. It was music sweeter than that of 
the turtle-dove calling to her mate, softer than the murmur of 
the wind among the grass-bells. Its sound thrilled the listener’s 


230 


through fairy halls 

heart, and made him long to look upon the being whose voice 
could discourse such sweet music. Zandilli arose, and crept 
with steps as noiseless as the leopard’s towards the place whence 
the music came. 

As he advanced the cave grew broader and higher, and a pale 
light seemed to flood the walls. Louder grew the music at each 
step, loftier the walls, and more brilliant the light, until suddenly 
such a sight burst upon his astonished eyes as never mortal had 
seen before. 

A large lake spread its sapphire waters before him. The 
roof of the cave shone as the sun, and great pillars, which sparkled 
with the glitter of countless diamonds, raised themselves from the 
waters and were lost in the blazing glory of the dome. In the 
very center of the lake a magnificent flight of glittering golden 
steps led to a throne, which sent forth flashes of green fire- 
being fashioned of a single emerald beautifully carved. The 
lake seemed boundless, for its shores were lost in darkness. 

From out of the shadow from all directions countless large 
rose-colored lilies came floating, each bearing towards the throne 
a fairy. It was from these lilies the lovely music floated, for 
each fairy sat singing as she combed her long golden hair. Never 
had Zandilli seen such beautiful forms. More delicate-looking 
were they than the soft wind-flowers that crown the precipices; 
more beautiful than the crimson orchids. Their hair that spread 
behind them was not less brilliant than the fiery tail of the great 
star which comes to warn the black man of approaching drought 
and famine; and it gleamed against their snowy breasts as does 
the golden tongue of the aium. Their forms were as graceful 
as that of the slender antelope; their arms were whiter than 
the spray which tips the waves. Their brows were crowned with 
white star-blossoms, and their voices excelled anything Zandilli 
had ever heard. The lily-boats floated from all sides, and seemed 

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MY BOOK HOUSE 


to be guided by some unseen power. As they touched the golden 
steps the fays stepped from the pink petals, and shaking their 
golden hair around their shoulders as a mantle, they joined 
throngs of others as fair as themselves around the throne. 

All this Zandilli gazed upon with eyes large with wonder. 
Only who it was that sat upon the throne he could not see, for 
a brilliancy of flashing lights clothed the occupant as in a veil. 
The empty boats dotted the lake, as do the blue water-lilies the 
quiet reaches of the rivers, floating lazily backwards and forwards. 

Suddenly the music ceased — his presence seemed to have 
become known to these strange people. There was much whisper- 
ing among the throngs upon the steps of the throne. Then a 
broad pathway was opened among them, a Being, clothed in 
light, stepped from the throne to the water’s edge and a silvery 
voice spoke, — 

“Mortal, you are not unexpected. You are Zandilli, the 
herdsman. Your quest is not unknown to us. You seek a Royal 
spear, and dare to aspire to win a Royal bride. The moon has 
risen five times since you vanquished the three princes in throw- 
ing the spear. When she shall have shone yet twice upon land 
and sea, your bride, unless you save her, will have wed another. 
Yet have no fear, brave Zandilli, the spear is within your reach.’’ 

The silvery tones ceased; Zandilli fell upon his face, and said, — 

“Oh, great Being! whose light is as the sun’s, help your ser- 
vant to find that spear which you say is within his reach!’’ 

A strange-shaped canoe of gold shot from the steps of the 
throne and rested at Zandilli’s feet. He entered it fearlessly, 
and as quick as light he was carried across to the golden steps. 
The dazzling Being who stood there reached a hand to him as 
he stepped from the canoe. He raised his eyes, and saw before 
him a woman lovely as the morning. Countless rays of light 
streamed from a girdle and breast-plate of diamonds, and from 

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THROUGH FAIRY HALLS 

the flowing robes of silver tissue that clothed her, leaving only 
the lily-white arms and throat bare. Her golden hair fell to her 
feet, and was crowned with a wreath of star-flowers. 

Welcome to the land of the Moon-Fairies!” she cried, as 
she took his hand and led him to a seat beside herself upon the 
throne. The crowd upon the steps bowed humbly before them 
as they passed through its midst. 

Then Zandilli spoke: “Oh, great Queen! whiter than the 
wind-clouds, fairer than the dawn, tell your servant how best 
he can serve you and win the spear!” 

She bent her eyes, blue as the lake, upon him, and said: 
“Would that I could say it is yours now — yours to take away; 
but there is an ancient law amongst us that forbids even the 
Queen to take from our treasure-trove anything. And the golden 
spear which fell at the mouth of this cavern, has been given a 
place among our treasures. 

“It was prophesied in years remote that a Mortal would 
come amongst us in quest of a weapon that would give the pos- 
sessor great joy. When he should appear two tasks were to be 
set him. If he performed them the object of his search should 
be given him. You, Zandilli, the herdsman, are that Mortal, 
for do you not seek a spear that will give you a lovely bride? 
We will deliberate upon the tasks to be set you. Meanwhile you 
will be shown the beauties of our home by my maidens.” 

With these words the Queen rose and descended to the lily- 
boat, which bore her quickly away. Now three of the loveliest 
of the fairies stepped with Zandilli into the golden canoe — 
wonder after wonder unfolded itself to his astonished gaze. All 
was glitter and light. But there was one dark cavern, whose walls 
were lusterless and black as night. Now Zandilli was impatient 
to win the spear, especially as the Queen had spoken of another 
who was to win the Princess Lala ere two moons had risen. 


233 


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He therefore begged to be taken back to the Queen, who sat 
again upon her throne. She greeted him with a smile, and laid 
her lily-white hand upon his bronze arm. “We have decided,” 
she said, “upon you first task. My councilors have made it no 
easy one. You have seen the black chamber? It is the one 
blot upon our home. If you can make it as beautiful as each of 
the others half your task will be fulfilled. Before the moon has 
risen again this must be performed, or death will be your doom.” 

Zandilli was taken to the black chamber; and there he was 
left alone in the golden canoe, with despair at his heart, for he 
had no means of beautifying those hideous walls. He thought 
of the foam-flecked sea, which he should never see again; of the 
shy maiden who was to have been his bride. He thought of the 
flowers, the birds, the butterflies. At the thought that then 
came, he laughed. The butterfly he had saved! Could it help 
him? It seemed hopeless. 

Zandilli sighed, and, overcome by fatigue, laid himself to 
sleep. But the butterfly heard its savior’s scarce-formed cry 
for help. At break of day it called together its brethren and its 
cousins, the fire-flies. Then they all flew into the dark cavern. 
The sound of their fluttering wings awoke Zandilli. Great 
was his surprise to find the dull walls transformed into a fairy 


234 


THROUGH FAIRY HALLS 


palace of gorgeous wings and tender pale-green gems. The 
butterflies and fire-flies had spread themselves over the entire walls. 

When the Queen and her followers came to see if the task 
had been performed, great surprise and joy did they express at 
the wonderful transformation the Mortal had worked. With 
one voice they cried, — “He has won! He has won!” 

All that day was spent in revelry; but the Queen was absent. 
She was with her wise men, discussing the second task. 

At the close of the day, the Queen spoke thus to Zandilli: 

“You have completed your first task, and the spear is partly 
won. It has therefore been placed here upon the steps before 
my throne. See! This is to be your second task — my maidens’ 
robes are woven from the wings of flies. Our looms are idle, 
for our store-rooms are empty. To you is given the task of fill- 
ing a hundred of our boats with the wings of flies.” Then the 
Queen disappeared. 

Zandilli lay down in the canoe, and gave way to despair. 
This task seemed far more hopeless even than the first. Never 
more should he see the sun; never should he hunt the leopard 
again. Never should he see the tumbling streams and cool 
brown pools, nor see the great black eyes of his Princess smile 
upon him. He fell asleep at last with these sad thoughts upon 
him. But the frog heard his saviour’s sigh for a sight of the 



235 


MY BOOK HOUSE 


brown pool, and called his brethren and his friends the lizards. 
Each came with his burden of flies, and soon filled the boats. 

Their busy croaking awoke Zandilli, who found his task per- 
formed; and when the Queen and her followers came again, 
they cried, — “He has won! The spear is his!” 

Then Zandilli ascended the golden steps to take his well- 
earned prize. Impatiently he seized the golden spear, and jumping 
into the canoe, propelled it with the spear to the edge of the lake, 
where he bounded ashore. In a few hours he was back at the hut of 
the King and had claimed his bride, the beautiful black-eyed Lala. 


FAIRY FORESTS* 

Alfred Noyes 

I wonder if you’ve ever dreamed, 

In summer’s noonday sleep, 

Of what the thyme and heather seemed 
To ladybirds that creep 
Like little crimson shimmering gems 
Between the tiny twisted stems 
Of fairy forests deep; 

And what it looks like as they pass 
Through jungles of the golden grass. 


★From Collected Poems , published by Frederick A. Stokes Company. 

236 


THROUGH FAIRY HALLS 

MET BRER TAR-BABY 

Way down south in the land 
o’ cotton, when the moon hung 
in the sky like a great, big, 
round persimmon, and the mock- 
ing bird was singing in the trees, 
the negroes used to gather all 
together before their cabins, 
sing queer, sweet old melodies, 
dance strange dances, and tell 
stories in the moonlight. Some- 
times a little white boy or girl 
would slip away of an evening 
from the great house with the 
big white pillars where the owner 
of the plantation lived, and go 
down among the little pickanin- 
nies to hear the tales and join in the fun. 

All of a sudden, the banjos and the fiddles, the singing and 
dancing would stop, everybody would squat down in a circle, and 
a little old mammy with a red bandana kerchief round her head 
would burst out in a high, shrill laugh, “Hi, yi, yi, yi!” her teeth 
shining like ivory in the moonlight. Then she would roll her 
eyes around to see that all the little pickaninnies were still as mice 
and begin to tell a story. 

“ ’Twa’n’t my time an’ ’twa’n’t you’ time, but ’twas a berry 
good time dat all de beastises got togeder — Brer Fox an’ Brer Wolf 
an’ Brer Bear an’ Brer ’Possum an’ all de rest, an’ dey say, ‘We’s 
gwine dig a well!’ All but Brer Rabbit, an’ he ’low he ain’t gwine 
wuk to dig no well. So he play roun’ ’bout in de bushes an’ he 
play roun’ an’ he play roun’ an’ he play roun’. An’ de udder beast- 
ises dey say to him, ‘Brer Rabbit, if you don’ dig no well, wot 

2 37 


HOW BRER RABBIT 



MY BOOK HOUSE 

you gwine do w’en you wants wateh?’ Den Brer Rabbit he say , 
‘Oh, I’se gwine get it an’ drink it!’ 

“De udder beastises dey all say, ‘We’s gwine plough de field an’ 
plant co’n.’ So dey all plough de field an’ plant co n. But Brer 
Rabbit he ’low he ain’t gwine wuk to plant no co’n. So he play 
roun’ an’ he play roun’ an’ he play roun’. Den de udder beastises 
dey say to him, ‘Brer Rabbit, if you don’ plant no co n, wot you 
gwine do w’en you wants food?’ An’ Brer Rabbit he say, Oh, I se 
gwine get it an’ eat it!’ 

“But w’en Brer Fox an’ Brer Wolf an’ Brer Bear an’ Brer 
’Possum an’ all de rest, had dug de field, an’ planted it, an’ cut it, 
den Brer Rabbit he come ’long an’ help hisself to de co’n. An’ 
w’en Brer Fox an’ Brer Wolf an’ Brer Bear an’ Brer ’Possum an’ 
all de rest had dug de well, den Brer Rabbit he come ’long an’ help 
hisself to de wateh. 

“Den Brer Wolf an’ Brer Fox an’ Brer Bear an’ Brer ’Possum 
an’ all de rest, dey make up de minds to cotch Brer Rabbit, so’s 
he cyan’t drink dere wateh an’ eat dere co’n no mo’ ! But Brer 
Rabbit he am too wise. He don’ come to de well twice at de same 
time. He jes’ slip in w’en nobody ain’t lookin’ an’ help hisself to de 
wateh an’ de co’n, an’ slip away again. So nobody cyan’t cotch him. 

“But Brer Wolf he say, ‘By jing! I’se gwine cotch him yet!’ 
An’ he take some straw an’ make it into a baby wid haid, body, 
ahms, laigs ; an’ he smear it wid tar — soft, sticky black tar, till dat 
dar baby’s black, black, black as any you little pickaninnies! Den 
he set Tar-Baby up right dar ’side de well an’ go ’way. 

“Bimeby de moon come out, de whip-poor-will begin to w’istle 
in de swamps, an’ ain’t nobody awake anyw’ere at all, ’ceppin’ 
Uncle Rastus’ yaller dog a way off summ’ers howlin’ at de moon. 
Den ’long come ole Brer Rabbit, mighty keerful-like, lookin’ here 
an’ lookin’ dere, a-listenin’ fur ev’ry sound an’ duckin’ down behin’ 
a stone w’en de wind go, ‘Zoo-oo!’ through de trees. Purty soon 
he come to de well an’ den, wot he see in de moonshine, but Tar- 

238 


through fairy halls 


Ba by sitin’ dar in his way, big an’ black as a live pickaninny! 

Fi list he gwine fur ter run, but he want to get some wateh 
mighty bad, so he sets up an’ he puts on his best comp’ny man- 
nehs an he say, ‘Good ebenin’, suh! Fine weatheh, suh!’ 

« 7 U ^ ^ ar ~^aby ain’t say nothin’. 

, " < . 1 ^ Iow s y ° u ’ mudder, suh, an’ you’ grandmudder, suh, an’ 
de chilluns, an all de rest ob de fambly?’ Brer Rabbit say, an’ 
he creep up a leetle nearer. 

t But Tar-Baby ain’t say nothin’. 

D ® n > BrCr Rabbit he Set mighty brave w’en he see Tar- 
Baby don move, an’ he drop his comp’ny mannehs right flat, 
an he say, ‘Look yere,’ says’e, ‘Get out o’ my way!’ 

‘‘But Tar-Baby ain’t move an’ ain’t say nothin’. 

“ ‘Look yere,’ says Brer Rabbit again, says’e, ‘You see dis 
yere paw,’ an’ he hoi’ up his right fo’ paw, ‘If you don’ get out 

o’ my way, I’se gwine hit you wid dis paw an’ knock de stuffin’ 
out o you!’ 


But Tar-Baby ain’t move and ain’t say nothin’! So Brer 
Rabbit he take his paw and blimp! he hit Tar-Baby a crack fur 
to knock de stuffin’ out o’ him, but Brer Rabbit’s paw is jes’ 
stick fast in de tar an’ he cyan’t pull it loose. Den Brer Rabbit 
begin fur to holler, ‘Le’ me go! Le’ me go, you black rascal!’ 
But Tar-Baby don’ le’ go! Den Brer Rabbit he hoi’ up his lef’ 
fo paw an’ he say, ‘You see dis yere paw. If you don’ le’ go, 
I’se gwine hit you wid dis paw an’ knock de daylights out o’ 
you!’ But Tar-Baby don’ le’ go! So Brer Rabbit he take his 
paw an’ blimp! he hit Tar-Baby anudder crack an’ t’udder paw 
stick fast in de tar! 


“Den Brer Rabbit begin fur to holler wuss’n ever, an’ he say, 
Le’ go! ‘Le’ go, you black rascal! Le’ go! Le’ go! You see 
dis yere foot! If you don’ le’ go, I’se gwine kick you wid dis foot 
an’ knock you sky high!’ But Tar-baby don’ le’ go. So Brer 


239 


MY BOOK HOUSE 

Rabbit he take his right foot an’ blimp! he hit Tar-baby anudder 
crack, an’ his right foot stick fast in de tar. Den Brer Rabbit 
begin fur to holler like a screech owl, an’ he lift up his left foot an 
he say, ‘Le’ go! Le’ go, you black rascal! Le’ go! Le’ go! 
You see dis yere foot? If you don’ le’ go, I’se gwine kick you wid 
dis foot an’ sen’ you sailin’ up to de moon!’ But Tar-baby don 
le’ go! So Brer Rabbit he take his left foot an’ blimp! he hit 
Tar-Baby anudder crack, an’ his left foot stick fast in de tar! 

“Den Brer Rabbit he get madder’n a hornet an’ he say, ‘Le’ 
go! Le’ go, you black rascal! Le’ go! Le’ go! If you don I se 
gwine butt you wid my haid an’ knock you all to pieces!’ But 
Tar-Baby don’ le’ go. So Brer Rabbit he butt Tar-Baby wid 
his haid an’ his haid stick tight in de tar. 

“Den Brer Rabbit he holler an’ he screech an’ he howl! But 
he cyan’t get loose, an’ dar he have to stay till de mawnin’. 

“ ‘Bout sun-up ’long come Brer Wolf fur to see wot’s happen, 
an’ dar he see Brer Rabbit stuck to Tar-Baby tighter’n a burr. 
Den Brer Wolf he open his mouf an’ laugh an’ show all his toofs, 
an’ he say, sweet as honey, ‘Good mawnin’ Brer Rabbit. How 
is you dis fine mawnin’?’ 

“Now Brer Rabbit ain’t say nothin’, but he begin to shake 
in de knees, kase he know wot’s cornin’ to ’im. An’ Brer Wolf 
he say, ‘Wot for you don’ speak to me, Brer Rabbit. ’Pears like 
you is a little stuck up dis mawnin’!’ An’ he laugh fit to split, 
‘Hi, yi, yi, yi! I hear you is lookin’ fur a drop o’ wateh, so I’se jes’ 
gwine take you an’ frow you in de well!’ An’ he cotch hoi’ o’ 
Brer Rabbit by de hind laig. Now Brer Rabbit he’s got de 
shakes all ober! Tears like he’s gwine ter en’ up in de well. But 
he been a thinkin’ an’ he say, ‘O Brer Wolf, please do frow me into 
dewell! Dat’llgi’e me debes’ drink ob water I’seebber had. Dat’s 
jes’ w’ere I wants to be— in de well. But, whatebber you do, don’, 
don’, don’, please don’ frow me in de brier-patch!’ 

240 


THROUGH FAIRY HALLS 

“Now Brer Wolf he’s 
mighty s’prised w’en he hear 
Brer Rabbit say he wants to 
get frowed in de well, an’ so 
he say, ‘Well den, I jes’ ain’t 
gwine frow you in de well. 
I’se gwine build a fire fer ter 
roast some o’ dat co’n you’se 
a hankerin’ atter, an’ I’se 
gwine frow you in de fire!’ 

‘“O Brer Wolf! Brer 
Wolf!’ says Brer Rabbit (but 
he’s shakin’ like a leaf w’en 
he say it). ‘Please do frow 
me in de fire. Den I’ll eat 
all dat co’n I’se hankerin’ 
atter. In de fire’s jes’ w’ere I wants to be. But, whatebber you 
do, don’, don’, don’, please don’ frow me in de brier-patch!’ 

“Den Brer Wolf he scratch his haid an’ he say, ‘You wants 
me to frow you in de well, you wants me to frow you in de fire; 
well den, you rascal dat plays roun’, an’ plays roun’, an ’plays 
roun’, an’ don’ do no wuk, an’ eats co’n udder folks plants, an’ 
takes wateh out a well udder folks digged, I’se gwine do de wustest 
thing you don’ want me to,— I’SE GWINE FROW YOU 
STRAIGHT IN DE BRIER-PATCH!’ 

“An’ he yank Brer Rabbit loose from Tar-Baby an’ frow him 
straight into de brier-patch. ‘Dar now,’ he say, ‘De briers ’ll 
scratch ’im, an’ poke ’im an’ jab ’im! I done finish Brer Rabbit!’ 

“But jes’ den he hear Brer Rabbit laughin’ an’ see him goin’ 
lippity clippity through de briers, an’ Brer Rabbit call out to him, 
‘Thank you, Brer Wolf, kind Brer Wolf! Thank you fur sendin’ 
me straight back home! I an’ all my fambly was bo’n an’ raised 
in de brier-patch. Hi, yi, yi, yi!’ ” 



241 


M Y 


BOOK HOUSE 

MELILOT* 

T had been raining for ten months, and everybody 
felt as if it had been raining for ten years. There 
was a breath of wet on everything in-doors, and a 
flood of wet on everything out of doors, and over the 
great waste of bog between the two lakes in the valley, 
thick mist brooded and the rain fell with never-ending splash. 

Melilot was wet through as she made her way slowly down 
toward the valley. A pretty little girl of twelve was Melilot, 
and she lived in a cottage way up the mountains. She had been 
the only child of hard-working parents who taught her all that 
was good. But now both her father and mother were dead and 
she was left quite alone to care for herself. For days she had had 
little or nothing to eat and that morning the rain had beaten a 
hole through the roof of her hut, so the water came pouring in 
and drenched everything through and through. F aint with hunger 
and weeping with grief, Melilot went down into the valley to ask 
for human help. The waterfall that broke into foam on the rocky 
basin near her cottage door, dashed with a mighty roar over a 
precipice into the swollen stream that carried its flood to one of the 
lakes, and it was by this steep and rocky path the road down into 
the valley ran. Melilot’s nearest neighbors lived in a wretched 
hovel on the oozing marsh and Melilot knew that her father had 
always avoided these people, and forbidden her to go near them. 
But to what others could she turn in her loneliness and great 
need? Shivering and weeping, she crept along through the mist and 
fog, and knocked at the cottage door. 

“Who’s there?” asked a hoarse voice inside. 

“It’s Melilot, from up above us,” answered a hoarser voice. 

“Come in, little Melilot,” said the hoarsest voice of all. 

At sound of those harsh voices the child flinched, but at last 
she summoned all her courage and opened the door. There she 

♦Retold from the story in Oberon’s Horn by Henry Morley. 

242 




THROUGH FAIRY HALLS 


stopped short on the threshold. Before her was a muddy puddle 
and in it three men sat squatted like frogs. They had broad noses 
and spotted faces and the brightest of eyes all fixed upon her. 

“We are glad to see you, Melilot,” said the one who sat in the 
middle, holding out a hand that had all of its fingers webbed tO’ 
gether. He was the one who had the hoarsest voice. “My friend 
on the right is Dock, Dodder sits on the left, and I am Squill. 
Come in and shut the door behind you.” 

Melilot hesitated for just an instant — they certainly were ugly 
enough to look at — but at length she went bravely in and shut the 
door behind her. 

“A long time ago your father came here, but he went out as 
soon as he saw us,” said Dock. “You are wiser than he, little girl.” 

“My father, O my dear father!” mourned Melilot weeping. 

“She is very sad and hungry,” said Dodder, “and we have 
nothing to offer her but tadpoles, which she cannot eat.” 

“Dear neighbors,” sobbed the child, “the rain has beaten a 
hole through the roof of my cottage. I am there all alone and in 



243 


MY BOOK HOUSE 


very great need. Will you come up the mountain and help me?” 

“She asks us to her house,” said Dock. 

“We may go,” said Dodder, “if we are invited.” 

“Little Melilot,” said Squill in his hoarsest tone, “we will all 
follow you to the mountain hut.” Then the three ugly creatures 
splashed out of their pool and moved with ungainly hopping toward 
her. But Melilot looked frankly into their faces and saw that 
their eyes, though bright, were neither hard nor cruel. Arm 
in arm behind her, they hopped along up the mountain. Rain 
still poured from the sky, runlets flooded their path and the great 
cataract roared by their side. Once Melilot, faint and weary, 
lost her footing and fell, but her three neighbors lifted her gently 
to her feet and helped her tenderly on. At last, after toilsome 
climbing, they reached the hut. Dock, Dodder and Squill at 
once bestirred themselves to mend the great hole in the roof. 
Late into the night they worked and when they had finished their 
task, the half famished child raked the embers of the fire and put 
on fresh wood till a blaze leaped up. Then she bade the three 
ugly monsters sit down in the warmth and rest. 

“I am sorry, dear neighbors,” she said, bravely pressing back 
the tears, “that I have no supper to offer you who have been so 
kind to me.” 

“Ah, but you have supper,” said Dock. 

In astonishment the child followed the glance of his eyes, 
and lo! on the round table near the fire, where she and her parents 
used to eat, there stood a loaf of bread and a cup of milk, just as 
if her dear father and mother themselves had provided them. 

“Oh, I am thankful,” cried Melilot, and she broke the loaf 
into three pieces and gave a piece to each of her guests, saving 
nothing at all for herself. 

“She is starving,” whispered Dodder, “yet she gives us all 
the food.” 


244 


THROUGH FAIRY HALLS 

“We must eat it all,” said Squill. “You know the reason why.” 

So they ate every crumb and Melilot smiled as they basked 
in the firelight, her heart brimming over with joy that she had 
this bread to give. Never once did she think that nothing was 
left for herself. But no sooner had the three neighbors eaten, 
than lo! there appeared on the table another loaf of bread and 
another and larger cup of milk. 

“That must be supper for the good little daughter Melilot 
and no one else,” said Squill. 

Warmed through and through as if by her mother’s very 
presence, Melilot gratefully ate. But she did not eat all that 
was set before her. No, for she thought to ask her kind friends 
to stay with her through the night, so she saved enough from 
her sore-needed supper to provide for their breakfast next morning. 
It was long since the sun had set, reddening the mists of the plain 
and now the mountain path beside the torrent was dark and difficult 
to follow. So when Melilot asked the monsters to sleep in the 
hut, they assented eagerly. There were but two beds in the 
cottage, a poor little straw pallet and the large and comfortable 
one where Melilot’s father and mother had slept. With simple 
hospitality Melilot gave up to her guests the larger bed, reserving 
the poor one for herself. After looking at her gratefully, the three 
monsters lay down and went to sleep with their arms twined about 
each other. The child looked down on them clinging together 
in their sleep, and noted many a kindly line and many a line of 
sorrow in their half frog-like faces. If one stirred in his sleep 
it was to nestle closer to the other two. 

“How strange,” she said to herself, “that I should at first 
have thought them ugly.” Then she knelt in prayer by her 
little nest of straw, and did not forget them in her prayers. There 
was a blessing on them in her heart as she settled down to sleep. 
But as she lay there, the rushing noise of the torrent fixed her 


245 


MY BOOK HOUSE 


attention and drew her towards the window from which she looked 
out into the night. There was a short lull in the rain, though the 
wind still howled around the mountain, and through a chance 
break in the scurrying clouds the full moon now and then flashed. 
It lit the lakes in the valley far below, and caused the torrent 
outside the window to gleam like silver through the shadows. 
Thence came to the ear of the lonely child — hark! it seemed low 
and wondrous music. Could it be the song of busy fairies at 
work in the waterfall? 

Up to the moon and cut down that ray! 

In and out the foam-wreaths plaiting: 

Spin the froth and weave the spray! 

Melilot is watching! Melilot is waiting! 

Pick the moonbeam into shreds, 

Twist it, twist it into threads! 

Threads of the moonlight, yarn of the bubble, 

Weave into muslin, double and double! 

Fold all and carry it, tarry ye not, 

To the chamber of gentle and true Melilot. 

Almost at the same moment the door of the hut opened and 
on the threshold two beautiful youths appeared, bright as 
the silver moonlight. At the feet of the gentle little maid they 
laid a bale of fairy muslin, woven from the spray of the waterfall. 
Then they turned into gleaming fire-flies and flitted out of the 
room. 

“Ah,” said the child to herself as she looked once again at 
the monsters cuddled together on the bed. “The fairies have 
brought me this that I might not have to send my kind helpers 
away without a gift. I will make them three dresses before they 
wake that they may see I am glad to work for them as they have 
worked for me.” 

Very carefully, so as not to awaken them, she began measuring 
her neighbors with the string of her poor little apron; then she 
retired with her scissors and thread and the fairy muslin into the 

246 


THROUGH FAIRY HALLS 



farthest comer of the hut, and set to work by the fitful light of a 
pine stick. All through the night the little maid stitched, but 
all night long as she patiently worked, the fairies sang outside, 
and a wonder it was that her needle never once needed threading. 
Keeping time to the low, sweet music, her fingers flew with a 
marvelous speed. One needleful of thread made all the three 
coats and still the thread was as long as before. When the first 
faint gray of dawn came creeping into the hut, the dresses were 
ready, and all the muslin had been used except a small litter of 
pieces. Melilot daintily folded the coats with that comer upper- 
most in which she had embroidered the owner’s name— Dock 
in one. Dodder in another, and Squill in the corner of a third. 
Then she laid them by the bed of her guests and, weary with toil, 
lay down for a little sleep. 

Dock, Dodder and Squill awakened before Melilot and the 
moment they opened their eyes, the very first thing each saw by 
the bed was his dainty new garment. In a twinkling they all 
dressed themselves, and the very moment they stood arrayed in 
the white muslin coats, lo! they turned into three fairy youths 
of bright and wonderful beauty. Then they went, hand in hand, 

247 


MY BOOK HOUSE 

and stood with joyful tears by the bed of the good little maid. 

“She has set us free, the dear child,” said Dock. 

“With all the muslin she had, she has saved nothing for herself,” 
said Squill. “Did not the child once wish to wear muslin in 
place of those rags? I kiss them, brothers, for her sake.” But 
Squill’s kiss on the girl’s ragged frock changed it into a splendid 
satin gown embroidered with jewels. 

“And I kiss the walls that sheltered us,” said Dodder. But 
Dodder’s kiss on the wretched walls changed them into a network 
of fragrant blossoms. 

“And I kiss the lips that bade us come hither,” Dock said. 
At his kiss the child smiled and opened her eyes. But she did 
not yet know the three handsome youths for her ugly guests. 
She thought them the Fairies who had brought her the muslin. 

“Ah, Fairies,” she cried, “those are the dresses I made for 
my three kind neighbors. I beg you do not take back your gift. 
It made me so happy to think I might do something for them. 
It is true I have done nothing of myself. The muslin is yours 
and the thread too, and it was you who made the needle run, yet 
I beg you let me have the coats to give to them.” 

“Ah, dear little Melilot,” said the Fairies speaking in softest 
unison, “you say you have done nothing of yourself, yet the 
kindness in your heart has done more for us than all our love 
and service will repay, for tonight it has changed us from the ugly 
monsters who were your neighbors into our rightful forms again.” 

“Then you are my dear neighbors,” said the child springing 
up. “And all is changed in the cottage. Why are the walls 
covered with flowers and my dress with jewels?” 

“It is the kindness in your heart has done it all,” said the 
Fairies again. And lo! little Melilot saw that the rain no longer 
fell. The sun had driven away the clouds, and the bright morning 
beams played in the spray of the cataract. Joyously she ran out 

248 


THROUGH FAIRY HALLS 


of doors and the F airies after her. But they had no sooner reached 
the open than Dock peered up at the sky. 

“Do you see anything between us and the sun?” cried he. 

“A speck,” said Dodder. 

“The wicked Frogbit herself,” said Squill, and they all hurried 
into the cottage again taking Melilot with them. There Squill, 
as if preparing to meet some evil, began shaping into a net the 
left-over shreds of Fairy muslin. Soon there came an icy wind 
striking a chill through the flowery cottage. 

“It seems to me,” said Melilot, peering out at the windows, 
“that this wind comes from that great black raven that has 
just lit on our roof.” 

“Ah, Frogbit,” cried Squill, “come on! We are ready for you.” 

At that the ugly bird let out a shrill croak as if in defiance 
and began to beat a way through the roof. At her touch 
the leaves of the bower withered and the blossoms shrivelled up. 
But just as Frogbit dropped in triumph through the hole, Squill, 
leapt up and caught her fast in his net. Then, beat her wings 
as she would, she could not break through the Fairy muslin. 

“Well done,” cried Dock and Dodder, but Melilot said, 
pityingly, “Poor bird! Why do you treat her so?” 

“Waste no pity on her. She came on a bad errand,” said Dock. 

But Melilot, who loved man, bird and beast, bent over the 



249 


MY BOOK HOUSE 

fluttering raven, and though it struck at her fiercely with its 
bill, she took it net and all, to her bosom. 

“How can a poor raven be your enemy?” said the child. 

“Their enemy and yours,” shrieked the raven. 

“Mine,” cried Melilot in surprise. “How can you be my 
enemy? I would do you no hurt for I love you.” And she 
stooped to kiss the raven’s head through the thin muslin, but the 
bird struggled to escape from the kiss with an agony of terror. 

“Nay,” said the gentle child, “no evil can come of a true kiss.” 
And she firmly and tenderly pressed her lips to its head. But lo! 
at the touch of her kiss, the wicked Frogbit changed from a raven 
into naught but a black shapeless lump of earth. 

“What have I done?” the child cried weeping. 

But the three Fairies joyously threw the lump of earth into 
the waterfall and told her just what she had done. Of old they 
had lived happily with their brothers in the torrent and in the 
valley below till the wicked Frogbit came with her own evil 
race and drove the good Fairies out of the valley. Dock, Dodder 
and Squill, Frogbit had taken prisoner. Then she had turned the 
land below into a marshy wilderness and brought down never 
ending rain. The three Fairies of the bright, running water she 
condemned to sit in a stagnant puddle, having their own bright 
natures hidden from view in outward forms the most detestable. 

“Live here,” she had said, “till a little child can look at you 
without being afraid; can believe in you entirely, invite you to 
her house, give up to you her own supper, and of her own free 
thought make white muslin dresses for your filthy shapes.” 

“And you, dear Melilot,” said the Fairies, “have done all this.” 

“Then I have really been a friend to you,” cried the child. 

“Aye, and to Frogbit, too,” they replied. “An innocent kiss 
is the charm that breaks all evil spells. You have broken the 
spell that raised her from a clod of earth into a creature of mischief. 


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THROUGH FAIRY HALLS 

We of the torrent will direct the waters that they wash away the 
clod. Purified now of evil, it shall yield beautiful flowers of 
which good Fairies shall be bom.” 

So the three Fairies returned to their race, but Melilot grew 
to womanhood their friend and the favorite of all the Fairies of 
the waterfall. Her rich and splendid dress she laid away and 
never wore, for she was arrayed by the Fairies in simple garments 
of their own shining muslin, woven from the white sheets of the 
torrent’s foam, a dress so pure it would take no speck of soil. 
And still all the bread and milk she needed appeared on the table 
each morning and evening, and in her heart was a sense of satisfied 
love as though her dear parents were ever with her. As to the 
marsh, the bad fairies over whom Frogbit ruled must have left it, 
for the mists and brooding fog vanished; it dried up and became a 
plain where men tilled the soil and reaped bounteous harvests. 



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THE RAGGED PEDLAR* 


Aunt Naomi 

At the foot of a big, bleak mountain stood a small town in 
which all the people were grumblers. They were never satisfied 
with anything and they were always unhappy. 

“Ours is only a very small town,” said the tradesmen. 
“Visitors never come to us, merchants never tarry with their 
caravans.” 

“We have no beautiful buildings, no fine squares and streets,” 
said others, “and the mountain which frowns on us is bare of 
vegetation and always looks gloomy and even threatening.” 

“We have no rich inhabitants,” said those who were lazy. 
“We have all to work, work continually for a bare subsistence.” 

Even the children were discontented, and lay idly on the 
ground at the street comers when the day was hot. Nobody 
seemed to notice that the fields at the foot of the mountain were 
bright and fresh and beautifully green for several months in 

★From Jewish Fairy Tales. Used by permission of the publishers, Bloch Publishing Co. 

252 


THROUGH FAIRY HALLS 

the year, and that when the snow covered the mountain it glistened 
and shone dazzlingly white in the sunshine and glowed rosy pink 
in the sunset. 

It was true that nothing seemed to happen in the town, but 
if there were no wealthy dwellers, there were also very few poor 
people. Nobody had much to give away, and so everybody was 
compelled to work to earn his living. But people who grumble 
do not notice these things. 

One day when the weather had been very hot and the people 
lazier than ever, a strange visitor came into town just before 
the sun began to set. The heat was passing, a little breeze was 
beginning to spring up, and even the barren mountain began to 
look a little beautiful under the rosy glow of the sky. Some of 
the huge frowning boulders and great stones began to reflect 
the setting sun until they shone like gold. 

Perhaps the strange visitor noticed this, if the inhabitants 
did not, and he called out, in a loud, musical voice — 

“Come hither, ye dwellers of this beautiful city of the setting 
sun. Yon mountain shines like burnished gold, your hundreds 
of roofs and minarets and domes and spires reflect the rosy hue 
of the sky. Yet ye are not happy. Come to me and I will sell 
you happiness.” 

The people all laughed loudly. 

“What manner of fool are you?” they said to the visitor, “and 
where did you get those strange clothes?” 

‘‘Yes, and what did you pay for them?” asked the children. 

“I paid naught for this magnificent traveling outfit,” replied 
the stranger. 

Everybody roared with laughter when he said this, because 
the man was dressed in rags ! Except for a huge basket slung from 
his shoulders and a long rope wound round his body, he wore 
almost nothing. The rest was made up of a few patches of differ- 


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ent colours. In his quaint cap were many holes through which 
his unkempt hair wound itself in fantastic fashion. 

“It must take you an hour to remove your hat,” said one. 

“Oh, no,” answered the pedlar, and he took it off with a 
flourish and put it back again, and every hair found its way 
through its old hole as if by magic! 

“Thou art no ordinary pedlar, sir stranger,” said Ahmed, 
the fishmonger, to him. 

“Have I not said so?” replied the pedlar. “I sell happiness.” 

“If thou but sellest cheaply,” returned Ahmed, “thou shouldst 
do well here. Set down thy basket.” 

The big basket jumped from the man’s shoulders by itself 
and stood itself upside down in the midst of the crowd that had 
gathered. The people stared in great wonderment. 

“There can be nothing in it,” they said. 

Immediately the basket of its own accord turned a somersault 
and stood the other way up. It was empty. 

“The man must be mad,” cried Ahmed. 

“And the basket bewitched,” added Mustapha Ben, the tailor. 

The pedlar said nothing, but handed the end of the rope 
which was round his waist to one of the children. The child 
took it and began to pull. The pedlar spun round and round 
like a top until the people could hardly see him, and the rope 
that unwound itself seemed endless. It lay coil upon coil upon 
the ground until it made a pile as high as the basket. Then the 
man stopped spinning. He took one end of the rope and threw 
it up in the air. Away it spun, uncoiling itself right to the other 
end of the street where it caught itself neatly on a post. There 
was a post a few yards away from where the pedlar was standing, 
and he threw the loose end of the rope towards that. Again it 
caught, and the people then noticed that the rope was just the 
length of the distance between the two posts. 


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through fairy halls 

“A f U nn y performance,” they all said. “What does it mean, 
sir pedlar? 

My store is open; I am ready to begin business,” he replied. 

But where are your wares?” 

You will supply those,” was the answer, as the man took 
up his basket. 

. Now then, he cried, ‘all you who are unhappy bring here your 
miseries, your discontentments. I will exchange them for happiness.” 

Everybody found that they could each bring their unhappi- 
ness and they rushed forward eagerly to put it into the basket. 
Soon it seemed quite full. There was not a man or woman in 
the town that did not bring something. Even many of the 
children had some thing to put into the basket. 

“Observe now,” said the pedlar, and he took the basket and 
lifted it on to the rope. It stood there, balancing itself like a 
tight-rope walker. 

“Do your duty,” commanded the pedlar, and the basket 
began to roll over and over along the rope. All along it tumbled 
merrily, dropping the troubles as it went until everyone of them 
hung nicely across the rope. There was Ahmed’s lame leg, 
Mustapha Ben’s red hair, Granny Yochki’s crutch, Suliman’s 
empty pockets, and lots of other queer things. Every cause of 
unhappiness and discontent in the town was hung upon the line. 

“Hearken now unto me, ye good people of the city of the 
setting sun, ’ cried the pedlar, in his loud musical voice. “The 
day is waning fast, and I cannot stay with you. I promised to 
barter all your miseries for happiness. It is a simple task. Take 
each of you from the line the smallest trouble that you can see.” 

At once there was a big rush forward and a general scramble to 
snatch the smallest thing from the line. Everybody to his surprise, 
as he looked over other peoples’ troubles, found that his own 
was the smallest. In a few seconds the line was quite empty. 

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“Have each of you taken the smallest trouble?” asked the pedlar. 

“Yes,” answered Mustapha Ben, fixing on his red hair again. 

“Yes,” cried the others in chorus. 

“Then rest ye content, good people of the city of the setting 
sun,” answered the pedlar, in his strong musical voice. “Come, 
my faithful basket and rope,” and the basket jumped on to his 
shoulder and the rope wound itself rapidly round his body. 

“Farewell, be contented,” he sang out in a cheerful voice, and 
the people saw him ascend the barren mountain still glowing 
like gold in the setting sun. When he got to the top, he waved 
his hand and disappeared. 

And ever after the people ceased to grumble. 



THE PEDLARS SONG 
William Shakespeare 
Will you buy any tape. 

Or lace for your cape, 

My dainty duck, my dear-O? 

Any silk, any thread. 

Any toys for your head, 

Of the newest and finest wear-O? 

— From “A Winter’s Tale.” 
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I Samuel; 17. 

Now the Philistines gathered together their armies to battle. 
And Saul and the men of Israel were gathered together, and pitched 
by the valley of Elah, and set the battle in array against the 
Philistines. And the Philistines stood on the one side, and Israel 
stood on a mountain on the other side, and there was a valley 
between them. 

And there went out a champion out of the camp of the Philis- 
tines, named Goliath, of Gath, whose height was six cubits and 
a span. And he had an helmet of brass upon his head, and he was 
armed with a coat of mail; and the weight of the coat was five 
thousand shekels of brass. And he had greaves of brass upon his 
legs, and a target of brass between his shoulders. And the staff of 
his spear was like a weaver’s beam; and his spear’s head weighed six 
hundred shekels of iron; and one bearing a shield went before him. 

And he stood and cried unto the armies of Israel, and said unto 
them, “Why are ye come out to set your battle in array? Am not 
I a Philistine, and ye servants to Saul? Choose you a man for 
you, and let him come down to me. If he be able to fight with 
me, and to kill me, then will we be your servants; but if I prevail 
against him, and kill him, then shall ye be our servants, and 
serve us. I defy the armies of Israel this day; give me a man, 
that we may fight together.” 

When Saul and all Israel heard these words of the Philistine, 
they were dismayed, and greatly afraid. 


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Now David was the son of that Ephrathite of Bethlehem- 
judah, whose name was Jesse; and he had eight sons. And the 
three eldest sons of Jesse went and followed Saul to the battle. 
And David was the youngest. But David went and returned from 
Saul to feed his father’s sheep at Bethlehem. 

And the Philistine drew near morning and evening, and pre- 
sented himself forty days. 

And Jesse said unto David, his son , t Take now for thy brethren 
an ephah of this parched corn, and these ten loaves, and run to 
the camp; and carry these ten cheeses unto the captain of their 
thousand, and look how thy brethren fare, and take their pledge. 

Now Saul, and they, and all the men of Israel, were in the 
valley of Elah, fighting with the Philistines. And David rose up 
early in the morning, and left the sheep with a keeper, and took, 
and went, as Jesse had commanded him; and he came to the trench 
as the host was going forth to the fight, and shouted for the battle. 

And David left his carriage in the hand of the keeper of the 
carriage, and ran into the army, &nd came and saluted his brethren. 
And as he talked with them, behold, there came up the champion, 
the Philistine of Gath, Goliath by name, out of the armies of the 
Philistines, and spake according to the same words; and David 
heard them. 

And all the men of Israel, when they saw the man, fled from 
him, and were sore afraid. And the men of Israel said, “Have ye 
seen this man that is come up? Surely to defy Israel is he come 
up: and it shall be, that the man who killeth him, the king will 
enrich him with great riches, and will give him his daughter, and 
make his father’s house free in Israel.” 

And David spake to the men that stood by him, saying, “What 
shall be done to the man that killeth this Philistine, and taketh 
away the reproach from Israel? For who is this uncircumcised 
Philistine, that he should defy the armies of the living God?” 

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THROUGH FAIRY HALLS 

And the people answered him after this manner, saying, “So shall 
it be done to the man that killeth him.” 

And Eliab his eldest brother heard when he spake unto the 
men; and Eliab’s anger was kindled against David, and he said, 
Why earnest thou down hither? And with whom hast thou left 
those few sheep in the wilderness? I know thy pride, and the 
naughtiness of thine heart; for thou art come down that thou 
mightest see the battle.” 

And David said, “What have I now done? Is there not a 
cause?” And he turned from him toward another, and spake 
after the same manner: and the people answered him again after 
the former manner. And when the words were heard which 
David spake, they rehearsed them before Saul: and he sent for him. 

And David said to Saul, “Let no man’s heart fail because of 
him; thy servant will go and fight with this Philistine.” And 
Saul said to David, “Thou art not able to go against this P hili stine 
to fight with him: for thou art but a youth, and he a man of war 
from his youth.” 

And David said unto Saul, “Thy servant kept his father’s 
sheep, and there came a lion, and a bear, and took a lamb out of 
the flock: and I went out after him, and smote him, and delivered 
it out of his mouth: and when he arose against me, I caught him 
by his beard, and smote him, and slew him. Thy servant slew 
both the lion and the bear: and this uncircumcised Philistine shall 
be as one of them, seeing he hath defied the armies of the living 
God. The Lord that delivered me out of the paw of the lion, 
and out of the paw of the bear, he will deliver me out of the hand 
of this Philistine.” 

And Saul said unto David, “Go, and the Lord be with thee.” 

And Saul armed David with his armour, and he put an helmet 
of brass upon his head ; also he armed him with a coat of mail. And 
David girded his sword upon his armour, and he assayed to go; 

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but he had not proved the King’s armor or his weapons. And 
David said unto Saul, “I cannot go with these; for I have not 
proved them.” And David put them off him. And he took his 
staff in his hand, and chose him five smooth stones out of the 
brook, and put them in a shepherd’s bag which he had, even in a 
scrip; his sling was in his hand, and he drew near to the Philistine. 

And the Philistine came on and drew near unto David; and 
the man that bare the shield -went before him. And when the 
Philistine looked about, and saw David, he disdained him: for he 
was but a youth, and ruddy, and of a fair countenance. And the 
Philistine said unto David, “Am I a dog, that thou comest to me 
with staves?” And the Philistine cursed David by his gods. 
And the Philistine said to David, “Come to me, and I will give 
thy flesh unto the fowls of the air, and to the beasts of the field.” 

Then said David to the Philistine, ‘Thou comest to me with a 
sword, and with a spear, and with a shield; but I come to thee in 

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the name of the Lord of hosts, the God of the armies of Israel, 
whom thou hast defied. This day will the Lord deliver thee into 
mine hand; and I will smite thee, and I will give the carcases of 
the host of the Philistines this day unto the fowls of the air, and 
to the wild beasts of the earth; that all the earth may know that 
there is a God in Israel. And all this assembly shall know that the 
Lord saveth not with sword and spear: for the battle is the 
Lord’s, and he will give you into our hands.” 

And it came to pass, when the Philistine arose, and came and 
drew nigh to David, that David hasted, and ran toward the army 
to meet the Philistine. And David put his hand in his bag, and 
took thence a stone, and slang it, and smote the Philistine in his 
forehead, that the stone sunk into his forehead; and he fell upon 
his face to the earth. 

So David prevailed over the Philistine with a sling and with 
a stone, and smote the Philistine, and slew him; but there was no 
sword in the hand of David. And when the Philistines saw their 
champion was dead, they fled. 

And the men of Israel and of Judah arose, and shouted, and 
pursued the Philistines. 



MY BOOK HOUSE 



RHODOPIS AND HER LITTLE GILDED SANDALS 
The First Cinderella Story* 

Hear, O youth! It happened once that Rhodopis, the rosy 
cheeked, came down through the palm groves to bathe in the 
river Nile. Beautiful as the dawn was Rhodopis; her mouth 
was pure of evil speaking; her two hands were pure of evil doing, 
and her forehead shone with the light of the Double Truth’ 
Amid the papyrus reeds on the bank of the river she left her 
pure wlnte garments and a pair of tiny gilded sandals. Then 
she flung herself lightly on the bosom of old Father Nile, But 
as she disported hersdf in those sacred waters, lo! there came 
flying toward her a mighty eagle. Above the papyrus reeds 
he hovered and spied among them the gleam of gold. Down 
to the earth he swooped, seized one of the beautiful gilded 
sandals, and soared again up to the heavens. Rhodopis cried 
out and stretched forth her arms, but already the eagle was 
lost to sight in the bright beams of Ra, the Sun. 

Now it chanced that at that very hour there sat before the 
Temple of Ptah in the great square of the royal city of Memphis 
the King himself, administering justice, on his head the crowns 
of Upper and Lower Egypt. Before him came one dragging 
a poor peasant bound in chains. 


the ZrU^iuMVeh^ wtore'lTl tKX ZTi ctfrneTZ «*' “ °"? »lde s , in 

ful fancy. This legend woven about Queen Nitokris called in tht of a beaut *• 

cheeked), is probably the oldest. It was told to little children Rhod °P ls ( the rosy 

Chnst, and is to this very day a favorite fairy tale in Egypt S6veral tbi0Us and years before 


262 


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This fellow will not pay his tax of one tenth of his harvest 
to thy royal granary!” said the tax-collector. 

The peasant fell on his face before the King. 

“Hail unto thee, great Lord of Truth and Justice!” he cried. 

Worms destroyed the half of my wheat, swarms of rats laid 
waste my fields, the little birds pilfered, and the hippopotomi 
ate the rest. At such a time came thy tax-collector to demand 
the royal tax. When I made answer that I had no com for 
myself and hence none to give thee, there came the keepers of 
the doors of thy granary with cudgels. They threw me full 
length upon the ground, bound me hand and foot and dragged 
me here to thee. My wife they cast into chains — my children 
likewise. Justice, O King! Justice!” 

The King rose up with flashing eyes and out-stretched hand. 

“Thou hast committed iniquity,” he cried to his tax-collec- 
tor. “Thou hast oppressed the poor. The tax is for those 
to pay who have wherewithal to pay it. Thou shalt serve me 
no more. Begone! This man shall go free.” 

Then he bade those who held the peasant to loose him, to 
give him food and drink and a gift for his wife and children. 

“I would cause no child of tender age to mourn,” he said. 
“ I would despoil no woman. Go safely home, my man. Thou 
hast no com or wheat, ’tis true, but thou hast a greater treasure 
— even those who love and cherish thee.” And he sank wearily 
down on his seat of justice, for he -had no wife nor child of his 
own. No woman had he yet found worthy to share his throne 
and help him rule his people. 

As he spoke and while still he mused on that which he had 
not, there came suddenly soaring above the square a mighty 
eagle, and lo! from the eagle’s beak there fell into the great King’s 
lap a maiden’s tiny gilded sandal. In great astonishment, the 
King picked up the trinket and held it forth at arm’s length 

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in the palm of his powerful hand. 

“What maid beneath the sun,” he 
cried, “could wear such dainty footgear?” 
And as he gazed upon it, there rose in 
his mind a vision of what she must be 
like whose foot would fit that tiny sandal. 
Into the robes on his bosom, he thrust 
the little thing. 

“I will hear no more complaints today,” he said and bade 
those who bore his litter to carry him back to his palace. Once 
alone in his own inner chamber, he drew forth the sandal again 
and studied it long and earnestly. Every moment it seemed 
more beautiful; and more and more lovely grew his vision of 
her who must have worn it. At length he called to him the 
Chief of his Scribes. 

“Write out for me a royal proclamation,” he ordered. 

The Scribe spread out a scroll of papyrus and began to draw 
upon it strange figures and hieroglyphics. 

“Let all the maidens in my land try on this sandal,” said 
the King. “She whose foot it fits, and she alone, shall be my 
queen.” 

When the Scribe had finished his work, he went forth into 
the city and a servant bore on a splendid cushion before him 
the precious gilded sandal. In all the public places the Scribe 
read the King’s proclamation, and straightway the ladies came 
flocking to try on the little slipper. There were maidens of 
high degree and maidens of low degree, there were daughters 
of nobles and daughters of blacksmiths, daughters of goldsmiths 
and daughters of glass-blowers, daughters of armorers and 
daughters of potters, there were women from Upper Egypt 
and women from Lower Egypt, but not a single one among 
them could squeeze her foot into the tiny sandal. 

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Days passed and the King was in despair. The more dif- 
ficult it seemed to find the mysterious maiden, the more certain 
he became that she, and she alone, was fitted to be his Queen. 
At length there came one morning to the Chief Scribe the peas- 
ant whom the King had released from his tax, and whispered 
privately into his ear: 

Go to the Sphinx by the great pyramids in the desert. 
There comes every day at daybreak to greet the rising sun 
a maiden beautiful as the dawn.” 

The Scribe bore the news at once to the King, and the very 
next morning, just as the first faint rays of the sun came gleam- 


MY BOOK HOUSE 


ing through the palm trees, and crept across the green Nile val- 
ley to the sandy edge of the desert, the King, wrapped well from 
public sight in a cloak, made his way with the Scribe to the spot 
where rose the three great pyramids. There, too, stood the giant 
Sphinx with the body of a lion and the head of a man, carved 
from the solid rock and rising solemn and grand from the sand. 

Just as the round red ball of Ra burst full above the hori- 
zon’s rim, lo! a maiden, rosy as the dawn, sprang up on the 
mighty paw of the Sphinx, and raised her hands toward the 
rising sun — resplendent symbol of the Creator, of Light and 
Truth and all-sustaining Power. 

“Thy appearing is beautiful in the horizon of heaven,” she sang; 

Thou fillest every land with thy beauty. 

The birds fly in their haunts — 

Their wings adoring thee. 

The small bird in the egg$ sounding within the shell — 

Thou givest it breath within the egg. 

How many are the things which thou hast made! 

Thou createst the land by thy will, thou alone, 

With peoples, herds, and flocks — 

Thou givest to every man his place, thouframest his life.” 

No sooner had the King beheld the maiden’s rosy face, 
reflecting all the light of the sun, than he said, “This is indeed 
the one!” As she finished her song and seated herself on the 
paw of the Sphinx, he himself took the precious sandal and 
humbly made his way toward her. 

“O maiden that shinest like the sun!” he cried, “does this 
belong to thee?” 

The maiden smiled as she saw what he held in his hand, then 
she put forth one slender bare foot and slipped it easily into the 
sandal. In another moment she drew from beneath her the 
other foot, and lo! there was the mate to the wonderful slipper. 

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So the King asked Rhodopis — for Rhodopis it was — to be 
his Queen. Rhodopis gave him both her hands and made answer: 

O great Lord, who feedest on Truth and Justice, I ask nothing 
more than to share such a life as thine.” Then the King led 
her back to the palace. There was placed on her head the crown 
of the Queens of Egypt, with the royal asp rising from her brow. 
Thenceforward, by the side of the just and merciful King, as 
his beloved companion, she reigned over Egypt— Rhodopis, 
the rosy cheeked, who wore the little gilded sandals. 



A DAY* 

Emily Dickinson 
I’ll tell you how the sun rose, — 

A ribbon at a time. 

The steeples swam in amethyst, 

The news like squirrels ran. 

The hills untied their bonnets, 

The bobolinks begun, 

Then I said softly to myself, 

“That must have been the sun!” 

But how he set, I know not, 

There seemed a purple stile 
Which little yellow boys and girls 
Were climbing all the while. 

Till when they reached the other side, 
A domini in gray 
Put gently up the evening bars, 

And led the flock away. 


★From Poems. Copyrighted by Little, Brown & Company. 

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There dwelt once in Greece the nymph Clymene and her son, 
Phaeton, a bold and headstrong youth. Among his school- 
fellows Phaeton once boasted that his father was no common 
mortal like theirs, but Phoebus Apollo, the mighty Lord of the 
Sun, who drove across the blue dome of heaven the flaming 
chariot of day. 

“Ho!” laughed his schoolfellows, “Words come easy.” And 
they mocked him and scoffed at his boast. “Phoebus seems in 
no such haste to call thee son as thou art to call him father. For 
any notice he has ever taken of thee, thou mightest be son of a 
swineherd.” 

Then was Phaeton wrathful and stormed back home to his 
mother. 

“These fellows will not believe,” he said, “that I am son of 
Apollo. I shall go to my father and demand that he give me 
some sign to show them I speak the truth.” 

“Go, my son,” said Clymene. “Thy father will bid thee 
welcome. But ask of him a modest and moderate sign becoming 
thy youthful years. Remember he is Lord of the Sun and thou 
art but a youth.” 

Phaeton paid little heed to her words. He flung himself 
out of her presence and was off on his journey. Toward India 
he travelled, the region of the Sunrise. At length far, far to 
eastward he came upon the Palace of the Sun. Reared high on 
splendid columns it stood, ablaze with gold and jewels. Nothing 
abashed by all its splendor, Phaeton toiled up the steep ascent 

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THROUGH FAIRY HALLS 

and entered the halls of the palace. Boldly he pushed on into 
the very presence of Apollo. But there he was forced to stop, 
for so bright were the rays streaming from that august head that 
Phaeton was dazzled by them. 

Arrayed in purple robes, Phoebus sat on a throne that glistened 
as with diamonds. On his right hand and his left stood the Day, 
the Month and the Year, while ranged about were the Hours. 
Behind him stood Spring with garlands of flowers, Summer 
crowned with ripened grain, Autumn wreathed with purple 
grapes, and icy Winter coated with frost. Surrounded by these 
attendants, Apollo beheld the youth and mildly asked him his 
errand. 


“ O light of the boundless world ! ” cried Phaeton. “Phoebus, 
my father — if thou dost permit me to use that name — I come to be- 



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seech thee, if I am indeed thy son, give me some proof by which 
I may be known to the world.” 

When he ceased speaking, his father laid aside the beams 
that blinded the boy, held out his arms and bade him approach. 
Then he held him in a close embrace. 

“Thou art indeed my son,” said he. “Ask what thou wilt 
as proof, I solemnly vow to grant thy request.” 

Phaeton’s eyes gleamed. He sprang from his father’s arms 
and flung back his head. 

“Grant me that I may drive for one day across the heavens 
thy mighty chariot of the Sun.” 

Then was the father alarmed at such a foolhardy request and 
repented his rash promise. 

“Nay, my Phaethon,” he said. “This request only do not 
make. I beg thee withdraw it. It is not a boon that is safe for thee 
nor suited at all to thy youth and strength. In thine ignorance 
thou dost think to attempt what I only am able to do. None 
but myself may drive the flaming car of day.” 

“I will have no other boon,” cried Phaeton. 

“But my son, the first part of the way is so steep my horses, 
when fresh in the morning, can hardly make the climb. The 
middle is so high up in the heavens that I myself can scarcely 
look down without alarm and behold the earth and sea stretched 
beneath me. The last part of the road descends at a giddy pace 
so one must know just how to drive to keep from plunging head- 
long.” 

Still the obstinate boy insisted. 

“Perhaps thou dost think there are splendid palaces and temples 
to be seen on the way, but ah ! on the contrary, the road lies through 
the midst of frightful monsters — constellations of stars they are 
called on Earth. Thou must pass by the horns of the Bull, and the 
gaping jaws of the Lion, between the claws of the Scorpion and 

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THROUGH FAIRY HALLS 

the Crab. Nor wilt thou find it easy to guide those fire-breathing 
horses. I can scarcely hold them myself if they chance to grow 
unruly. I beg thee to choose more wisely.” 

“I will have naught but to drive thy car,” cried Phaeton. 

So at last all unwillingly, Phoebus led the way to where stood 
the lofty chariot. It was of gold, the pole and wheels of gold, the 
spokes of silver. Along the seat were rows of chrysolites and 
diamonds which reflected all around the brightness of the sun. 
While the wilful youth gazed in admiration, the Dawn threw 
open the purple doors of the East, and showed the pathway 
strewn with roses. Slowly the stars withdrew, led by the Day- 
star. When he saw the East beginning to glow and the Moon 
preparing to retire, Phoebus ordered the Hours to harness up 
the horses. Forth from the lofty stalls they led the steeds, full 
fed with ambrosia, and attached the jewelled reins. Then the 
father reluctantly set the crown of brilliant rays on his son’s head 
and said with a sad farewell sigh: 

“Ah, my son, in this at least heed my advice, spare the whip 
and hold tight the reins. Thou wilt see the marks of the wheels 
on the road and they will serve to guide thee.” 

The agile youth sprang into the chariot, stood erect and 
grasped the reins with reckless delight. 

Meanwhile the horses fill the air with their snortings and 
fiery breath and stamp the ground, impatient. Now the bars 
are let down and the boundless plain of the universe lies open 
before them. They dart forward, cleave a way through the 
clouds, and outrun the morning breezes. 

The steeds soon feel that the load they draw is lighter than 
usual. And now they refuse to obey the reins and turn from the 
travelled road. Phaeton is alarmed. He knows not how to 
guide them. He plies them madly with his whip. Forward they 
race at breakneck speed. 

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MY BOOK HOUSE 

Phaeton looks down — far down to 
the earth. His knees shake. In spite 
of the glare all around him, the sight 
of his eyes grows dim. He wishes he 
had never touched his father’s horses, 
never prevailed in his request. He is 
borne along like a vessel that flies be- 
fore a tempest, when the pilot can do 
no more. Much of the heavenly road 
is left behind but more remains before. 
He rolls his eyes from the goal whence 
he began his course to the realms of 
sunset which he will never reach. He loses his self-command 
and knows not what to do— whether to draw tight the reins or 
throw them loose; he forgets the names of the horses. He 
sees with terror the monstrous forms scattered over the surface 
of heaven. Here the Scorpion stretches his great arms with 
his tail and crooked claws over two signs of the Zodiac. When 
the boy beholds him, his courage fails, and he drops the reins 
from his hands. Now altogether unrestrained, the horses plunge 
headlong. In among the stars they dash hurling the chariot over 
pathless places, now up in high heaven, now down almost to the 
earth. 

The clouds begin to smoke and the mountain tops take fire, 
the fields are parched with heat, the plants wither, the trees with 
their leafy branches shiver, the harvest is ablaze. Great cities 
bum with their walls and towers. 

So Phaeton beholds the world on fire, and feels the heat 
unbearable. The air he breathes is like a furnace. He dashes 
forward— he knows not whither. Then it is believed the people 
of Ethiopia were scorched black and the Libyan desert dried up 
to a waste of burning sand. The Nymphs who dwelt in the 

272 



THROUGH FAIRY HALLS 


fountains mourned the loss of their waters, nor were the rivers 
safe beneath their banks. The earth cracked open, the sea 
shrank up. Where before was water, it became a dry plain. 
The fishes sought the lowest depths and the dolphins no longer 
dared sport as before on the waves. Even Nereus, the old man 
of the Ocean, and his wife Doris, with the Nereides, their daughters, 
sought refuge in the deepest caves. Earth, screening her face 
with her hand, cried out with a husky voice on Jupiter, King of 
the Heavens, to save her. 

Then Jupiter, all powerful, preceiving the ruin wrought by 
this mad race, mounted the lofty tower whence he sends clouds 
over the earth and hurls the forked lightnings. Thence he 
launched a thunderbolt and struck Phaeton from his seat. Head- 
long, like a shooting star, plunged the youth, his hair ablaze, 
down, down into the depths of the river Eridanus. And so the earth 
was saved; showers refreshed her, and she burst again into bloom. 



THE CLOUD 
Percy Bysshe Shelley 

I bring fresh showers for the thirsting flowers, 
From the seas and the streams; 

I bear light shade for the leaves when laid 
In their noonday dreams. 

From my wings are shaken the dews that waken 
The sweet buds every one, 

When rocked to rest on their mother’s breast. 

As she dances about the sun. 

I wield the flail of the lashing hail, 

And whiten the green plains under; 

And then again I dissolve it in rain, 

And laugh as I pass in thunder. 


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MY BOOK HOUSE 



Once upon a time, there lived a very rich man, and a king 
besides, whose name was Midas; and he had a little daughter, 
whom nobody but myself ever heard of, and whose name I either 
never knew, or have entirely forgotten. So, because I love 
odd names for little girls, I choose to call her Marygold. 

This King Midas was fonder of gold than anything else in 
the world. If he loved anything better, or half so well, it was 
the one little maiden who played so merrily around her father’s 
footstool. But the more Midas loved his daughter, the more 
did he desire and seek wealth. He thought, foolish man! that 
the best thing he could possibly do for this dear child would be 
to bequeath her the immensest pile of yellow, glist ening coin, 
that had ever been heaped together since the world was made. 
Thus, he gave all his thoughts and time to this one purpose. 

And yet, in his earlier days, before he was so entirely pos- 
sessed of this insane desire for riches, King Midas had shown a 
great taste for flowers. He planted a garden, in which grew 
the biggest and beautifullest and sweetest roses that any mortal 
ever saw or smelt. But now, if he looked at them at all, it was 
only to calculate how much the garden would be worth if each 
of the innumerable rose petals were a thin plate of gold. 

At length (as people always grow more and more foolish, 
unless they take care to grow wiser and wiser), Midas had got 
to be so exceedingly unreasonable that he could scarcely bear 
to see or touch any object that was not gold. He made it his 
custom, therefore, to pass large portions of every day in a dark 

274 


THROUGH FAIRY HALLS 

and dreary apartment, under ground, at the basement of his 
palace. It was here that he kept his wealth. Here, after care- 
fully locking the door, he would take a bag of gold coin, or a gold 
cup as big as a washbowl, or a heavy golden bar, or a peck meas- 
ure of gold dust, and bring them from the obscure comers of the 
room into the one bright and narrow sunbeam that fell from 
the dungeon-like window. He valued the sunbeam for no other 
reason but that his treasure would not shine without its help. 
And then would he reckon over the coins in the bag; toss up the 
bar, and catch it as it came down; sift the gold-dust through 
his fingers; look at the funny image of his own face, as reflected 
in the burnished circumference of the cup, and whisper to him- 
self, “O Midas, rich King Midas, what a happy man art thou!” 
But it was laughable to see how the image of Iris face kept grin- 
ning at him, out of the polished surface of the cup. It seemed 
to be aware of his foolish behavior, and to have a naughty inclina- 
tion to make fun of him. 

Midas called himself a happy man, but felt that he was not 
yet quite so happy as he might be. The very tiptop of enjoy- 
ment would never be reached, unless the whole world were to 
become his treasure-room, and be filled with yellow metal which 
should be all his own. 

Midas was enjoying himself in his treasure-room, one day, 
as usual, when he perceived a shadow fall over the heaps of gold; 
and, looking suddenly up, what should he behold but the figure 
of a stranger, standing in the bright and narrow sunbeam! It 
was a young man, with a cheerful and ruddy face. Whether 
it was that the imagination of King Midas threw a yellow tinge 
over everything, or whatever the cause might be, he could not 
help fancying that the smile with which the stranger regarded 
him had a kind of golden radiance in it. Certainly, although 
his figure intercepted the sunshine, there was now a brighter 

275 


MY BOOK HOUSE 

gleam upon all the piled-up treasure than before. Even the 
remotest comers had their share of it, and were lighted up, when 
the stranger smiled, as with tips of flame and sparkles of fire. 

As Midas knew that he had carefully turned the key in the 
lock, and that no mortal strength could possibly break into this 
treasure-room, he, of course, concluded that his visitor must be 
something more than mortal. Midas had met such beings 
before now, and was not sorry to meet one of them again. The 
stranger’s aspect, indeed, was so good humoured and kindly, 
if not beneficent, that it would have been unreasonable to sus- 
pect him of intending any mischief. It was far more probable 
that he came to do Midas a favour. And what could that favour 
be, unless to multiply his heaps of treasure? 

The stranger gazed about the room; and when his lustrous 
smile had glistened upon all the golden objects that were there 
he turned again to Midas. 

“You are a wealthy man, friend Midas!” he observed. I 
doubt whether any other four walls on earth, contain so much 
gold as you have contrived to pile up in this room.” 

“I have done pretty well— pretty well,” answered Midas, 
in a discontented tone. “But, after all, it is but a trifle, when 
you consider that it has taken me my whole life to get it together. 

“What!” exclaimed the stranger. “Then you are not satisfied?” 

Midas shook his head. 

“And pray what would satisfy you?” asked the stranger. 

Midas paused and meditated. He felt a presentiment that 
this stranger, with such a golden luster in his good-humoured 
smile, had come hither with both the power and the purpose of 
gratifying his utmost wishes. Now, therefore, was the fortu- 
nate moment, when he had but to speak, and obtain whatever 
it might come into his head to ask. So he thought, and thought, 
and thought, and heaped up one golden mountain upon another, 

276 


THROUGH FAIRY HALLS 

in his imagination, without being able to imagine them big enough. 
At last, a bright idea occurred to King Midas. “I am weary 
of collecting my treasures with so much trouble,” said he. “I 
wish everything that I touch to be changed to gold!” 

The stranger’s smile grew so very broad, that it seemed to 
fill the room like an outburst of the sun. 

“The Golden Touch!” exclaimed he. “You certainly deserve 
credit, friend Midas, for striking out so brilliant a conception. 
But are you quite sure that this will satisfy you?” 

“How could it fail?” said Midas. 

“And will you never regret the possession of it?” 

“I ask nothing else, to render me perfectly happy.” 

“Be it as you wish, then,” replied the stranger, waving his 
hand in token of farewell. “Tomorrow, at sunrise, you will 
find yourself gifted with the Golden Touch.” 

The figure of the stranger then became exceedingly bright, 
and Midas involuntarily closed his eyes. On opening them 
again, he beheld only one yellow sunbeam in the room, and, 
all around him, the glistening of the metal which he had spent 
his life in hoarding up. 

Whether Midas slept as usual that night, the story does 
not say. Asleep or awake, however, his mind was probably 



2 77 


MY BOOK HOUSE 


in the state of a child’s, to whom a beautiful new plaything has 
been promised in the morning. At any rate, day had hardly 
peeped over the hills, when King Midas was broad awake, and, 
stretching his arms out of bed, began to touch the objects that 
were within reach, but was grievously disappointed to perceive 
that they remained of exactly the same substance as before. 
Indeed, he felt very much afraid that he had only dreamed about 
the lustrous stranger, or else that the latter had been making 
game of him. 

All this while, it was only the gray of the morning, with but 
a streak of brightness along the edge of the sky, where Midas 
could not see it. He lay in a very disconsolate mood, regretting 
the downfall of his hopes, until the earliest sunbeam shone through 
the window, and gilded the ceiling over his head. It seemed 
to Midas that this bright yellow sunbeam was reflected in rather 
a singular way on the white covering of the bed. Looking more 
closely, what was his astonishment and delight, when he found 
that this linen fabric had been transmuted to what seemed 
a woven texture of the purest and brightest gold! The Golden 
Touch had come to him with the first sunbeam! 

Midas started up, in a kind of joyful frenzy, and ran about 
the room, grasping at everything that happened to be in his 
way. He seized one of the bedposts, and it became immediately 
a fluted golden pillar. He pulled aside a window-curtain, in 
order to admit a clear spectacle of the wonders which he was 
performing; and the tassel grew heavy in his hand, — a mass of 
gold. He took up a book from the table. At his first touch it 
assumed the appearance of such a splendidly bound and gilt- 
edged volume as one often meets with nowadays; but, on run- 
ning his fingers through the leaves, behold! it was a bundle of 
thin golden plates, in which all the wisdom of the book had grown 
illegible. He hurriedly put on his clothes, and was enraptured 

278 


THROUGH FAIRY HALLS 


to see himself in a magnificent suit of gold cloth, which retained 
its flexibility and softness, although it burdened him a little 
with its weight. He drew out his handkerchief, which little 
Marygold had hemmed for him. That was likewise gold, with 
the dear child’s neat and pretty stitches running all along the 
border, in gold thread! Somehow or other, this last trans- 
formation did not quite please King Midas. He would rather 
that his little daughter’s handiwork should have remained just 
the same as when she climbed his knee and put it into his hand. 

But it was not worth while to vex himself about a trifle. 
Midas now took his spectacles from his pocket, and put them 
on his nose. To his great perplexity, however, he discovered 
that he could not possibly see through them. On taking them 
off, the transparent crystals turned out to be plates of yellow 
metal, and of course, were worthless as spectacles, though valua- 
ble as gold. It struck Midas as rather inconvenient that, with 
all his wealth, he could never again be rich enough to own a pair 
of serviceable spectacles. 

“It is no great matter, nevertheless,” said he to himself. 
“We cannot expect any great good, without its being accompanied 
with some small inconvenience. The Golden Touch is worth 
the sacrifice of a pair of spectacles, at least. My own eyes will 
serve for ordinary purposes, and little Marygold will soon be 
old enough to read to me.” 

Wise King Midas was so exalted by his good fortune, that 
the palace seemed not sufficiently spacious to contain him. He 
therefore went downstairs, and smiled, on observing that the 
balustrade of the staircase became a bar of burnished gold, as 
his hand passed over it, in his descent. He lifted the door-latch 
(it was brass only a moment ago, but golden when his fingers 
quitted it), and emerged into the garden. Here, as it happened, 
he found a great number of beautiful roses in bloom, and others 

279 


MY BOOK HOUSE 


in all the stages of lovely bud and blossom. 
Very delicious was their fragrance in the morn- 
ing breeze. Their delicate blush was one of 
the fairest sights in the world. 

But Midas knew a way to make them far 
more precious, according to his way of think- 
ing, than roses had ever been before. So he 
took great pains in going from bush to bush, 
and exercised his magic touch until every in- 
dividual flower and bud, and — even the worms at the heart of 
some of them, were changed to gold. By the time this good work 
was completed. King Midas was summoned to breakfast; and as 
the morning air had given him an excellent appetite he made haste 
back to the palace. 

On this particular morning, the breakfast consisted of hot 
cakes, some nice little brook trout, roasted potatoes, fresh boiled 
eggs, and coffee, for King Midas himself, and a bowl of bread and 
milk for his laughter Marygold. 

Little Marygold had not yet made her appearance. Her 
father ordered her to be called, and, seating himself at table, 
awaited the child’s coming, in order to begin his own breakfast. 
To do Midas justice, he really loved his daughter. It was not 
a great while before he heard her coming along the passageway 
crying bitterly. This circumstance surprised him, because Mary- 
gold was one of the cheerfullest little people whom you would 
see in a summer’s day, and hardly shed a thimbleful of tears 
in a twelvemonth. When Midas heard her sobs, he determined 
to put little Marygold into better spirits, by an agreeable sur- 
prise; so, leaning across the table, he touched his daughter’s 
bowl (which was a china one, with pretty figures all around it), 
and transmuted it to gleaming gold. Meanwhile, Marygold 
slowly opened the door, and showed herself with her apron at 

280 



THROUGH FAIRY HALLS 


her eyes, still sobbing as if her heart would break. 

“How now, my little lady!” cried Midas. “Pray what is 
the matter with you, this bright morning?” 

Marygold, without taking the apron from her eyes, held out 
her hand, in which was one of the roses which Midas had so 
recently transmuted. 

“Beautiful!” exclaimed her father. “And what is there in 
this magnificent golden rose to make you cry?” 

“Ah, dear father!” answered the child, as well as her sobs 
would let her; “it is not beautiful but the ugliest flower that 
ever grew! As soon as I was dressed I ran into the garden to 
gather some roses for you. But, oh dear, dear me! What do 
you think has happened? All the beautiful roses, that smelled 
so sweetly and had so many lovely blushes, are blighted and 
spoilt! They are grown quite yellow, as you see this one, and 
have no longer any fragrance! What can have been the matter?” 

“Poh, my dear little girl— pray don’t cry about it!” said 
Midas, who was ashamed to confess that he himself had wrought 
the change which so greatly afflicted her. “Sit down and eat 
your bread and milk! You will find it easy enough to exchange 
a golden rose like that (which will last hundreds of years) for 
an ordinary one which would wither in a day.” 



281 


MY BOOK HOUSE 


“I don’t care for such roses as this!” cried Marygold tossing 
it contemptuously away. “ It has no smell, and the hard petals 
prick my nose!” 

The child now sat down to table, but so occupied with her 
grief for the blighted roses that she did not even notice the won- 
derful transmutation of her china bowl. Perhaps this was all 
the better; for Marygold was accustomed to take pleasure in 
looking at the queer figures, and strange trees and houses, that 
were painted on the circumference of the bowl; and these orna- 
ments were now entirely lost in the yellow hue of the metal. 

Midas, meanwhile, had poured out a cup of coffee, and, as 
a matter of course, the coffee-pot, whatever metal it may have 
been when he took it up, was gold when he set it down. He 
thought to himself that it was rather an extravagant style of 
splendor in a king of his simple habits, to breakfast off a service 
of gold, and began to be puzzled with the difficulty of keeping 
his treasures safe. Amid these thoughts, he lifted a spoonful 
of coffee to his lips, and sipping it, was astonished to perceive 
that, the instant his lips touched, the liquid, it became molten 
gold, and the next moment, hardened into a lump! 

“Ha!” exclaimed Midas, rather aghast. 

“What is the matter, father?” asked little Marygold, gazing 
at him, with the tears still standing in her eyes. 

“Nothing, child, nothing!” 9aid Midas. “Eat your milk, 
before it gets quite cold.” 

He took one of the nice little trouts on his plate, and, byway 
of experiment, touched its tail with his fingfer. To his horror, 
it was immediately transmuted from an admirably fried brook 
trout into a gold-fish. Its little bones were now golden wires; 
its fins and tail were thin plates of gold; and there were the marks 
of the fork in it, and all the delicate, frothy appearance of a 
nicely fried fish, exactly imitated in metal. A very pretty piece 

282 


THROUGH FAIRY HALLS 

of work, as you may suppose; only King Midas, just at that 
moment, would much rather have had a real trout in his dish 
than this elaborate and valuable imitation of one. 

“I don’t quite see,” thought he to himself, “how I am to 
get any breakfast!” 

He took one of the smoking-hot cakes, and had scarcely 
broken it, When, to his cruel mortification, though a moment 
before, it had been of the whitest wheat, it assumed the yellow 
hue of Indian meal. Almost in despair, he helped himself to a 
boiled egg, which immediately underwent a change similar to 
those of the trout and the cake. 

“Well, this is a quandary!” thought he, leaning back in his 
chair, and looking quite enviously at little Marygold, who was 
now eating her bread and milk with great satisfaction. “Such 
a costly breakfast before me, and nothing that can be eaten!” 

Hoping that, by dint of great dispatch, he might avoid what 
he now felt to be a considerable inconvenience, King Midas 
next snatched a hot potato, and attempted to cram it into his 
mouth, and swallow it in a hurry. But the Golden Touch was 
too nimble for him. He found his mouth full, not of mealy 
potato, but of solid metal, which so burnt his tongue that he 
roared aloud, and, jumping up from the table, began to dance 
and stamp about the room, both with pain and affright. 

“Father, dear father!” cried little Marygold, who was a 
very affectionate child, “pray what is the matter?” 

“Ah, dear child,” groaned Midas, dolefully, “I don’t know 
what is to become of your poor father!” 

Here was literally the richest breakfast that could be set 
before a king, and its very richness made it absolutely good for 
nothing. The poorest laborer, sitting down to his crust of bread 
and cup of water, was far better off than King Midas. And 
what was to be done? Already, at breakfast, Midas was exces- 

283 


MY BOOK HOUSE 


sively hungry. Would he be less so by dinnertime? And how 
ravenous would be his appetite for supper, which must undoubt- 
edly consist of the same sort of indigestible dishes as those now 
before him! How many days, think you, would he survive a 
continuance of this rich fare? 

These reflections so troubled wise King Midas, that he began 
to doubt whether, after all, riches are the one desirable thing in 
the world, or even the most desirable. But this was only a 
passing thought. So fascinated was Midas with the glitter of 
the yellow metal, that he would still have refused to give up 
the Golden Touch for so paltry a consideration as breakfast. 

Nevertheless, so great was his hunger, and the perplexity 
of his situation, he again groaned aloud, and very grievously 
too. Our pretty Marygold could endure it no longer. She sat, 
a moment, gazing at her father, and trying, with all the might 
of her little wits, to find out what was the matter with him. Then, 
with a sweet and sorrowful impulse to comfort him, she started 
from her chair, and running to Midas, threw her arms affection- 
ately about his knees. He bent down and kissed her. He felt 
that his little daughter’s love was worth a thousand times more 
than he had gained by the Golden Touch. 

“My precious, precious Marygold!” cried he. 

But Marygold made no answer. 

Alas, what had he done. How fatal was the gift which the 
stranger bestowed! The moment the lips of Midas touched 
Marygold’s forehead, a change had taken place. Her sweet, 
rosy face, so full of affection as it had been, assumed a glittering 
yellow color, with yellow tear-drops congealing on her cheeks. 
Her beautiful brown ringlets took the same tint. Her soft and 
tender little form grew hard and inflexible within her father’s 
encircling arms. Little Marygold was a human child no longer, 
but a golden statue! 


284 


THROUGH FAIRY HALLS 



and pity, hardened into her face. It was the prettiest and most 
woeful sight that ever mortal saw. All the features and tokens 
of Marygold were there; even the beloved little dimple remained 
in her golden chin. But, the more perfect was the resemblance, 
the greater was the father’s agony at beholding this golden image, / 
which was all that was left him of a daughter. Now, at last/' 
when it was too late, he felt how infinitely a warm and tender 
heart that loved him, exceeded in value all the wealth that could 
be piled up betwixt the earth and sky! 

It would be too sad a story, if I were to tell you how Midas, 
in the fulness of all his gratified desires, began to wring his hands 
and bemoan himself; and how he could neither bear to look at 
Marygold, nor yet to look away from her. There was the pre- 
cious little figure, with a yellow teardrop on its yellow cheek, 
and a look so piteous and tender, that it seemed as if that very 
expression must needs soften the gold, and make it flesh again. 

285 



MY BOOK HOUSE 


Midas had only to wring his hands, and to wish that he were the 
poorest man in the wide world, if the loss of all his wealth might 
bring back the faintest rose-color to his dear child’s face. 

While he was in this tumult of despair, he suddenly beheld 
a stranger standing near the door. Midas bent down his head, 
without speaking; for he recognized the same figure which had 
appeared to him, the day before, in the treasure-room, and had 
bestowed on him the Golden Touch. The stranger’s counte- 
nance still wore a smile, which seemed to shed a yellow luster 
all about the room. 

“Well, friend Midas,” said the stranger, “pray how do you 
succeed with the Golden Touch?” 

Midas shook his head. 

“I am very miserable,” said he. 

“Very miserable, indeed!” exclaimed the stranger. “And 
how happens that? Have I not faithfully kept my promise 
with you? Have you not everything that your heart desired?’ 

“Gold is not everything,” answered Midas. “And I have 
lost all that my heart really cared for.” 

“Ah! So you have made a discovery, since yesterday?” 
observed the stranger. “Let us see, then. Which of these 
two things do you think is really worth the most. — the gift of 
the Golden Touch, or one cup of clear cold water?” 

“Oh blessed water!” exclaimed Midas. “I will never moisten 
my parched throat again!” 

“The Golden Touch,” continued the stranger, “or a crust 
of bread?” 

“A piece of bread,” answered Midas, “is worth all the gold 
on earth!” 

“The Golden Touch,” asked the stranger, “or your own 
little Marygold, warm, soft, and loving as she was an hour ago?” 

286 


THROUGH FAIRY HALLS 

“O my child, my dear child!” cried poor Midas, wringing 
his hands. “I would not have given that one small dimple in 
her chin for the power of changing this whole big earth into a 
solid lump of gold!” 

“You are wiser than you were, King Midas!” said the 
stranger, looking seriously at him. “Your own heart, I per- 
ceive, has not been entirely changed from flesh to gold. You 
appear to be still capable of understanding that the common- 
est things, such as lie within everybody’s grasp, are more valu- 
able than the riches which so many mortals sigh and struggle 
after. Tell me, now, do you sincerely desire to rid yourself 
of this Golden Touch?” 

“It is hateful to me!” replied Midas. 

A fly settled on his nose, but immediately fell to the floor, 
for it, too, had become gold. Midas shuddered. 

“Go then,” said the stranger, “plunge into the river that 
glides past the bottom of your garden. Take likewise a vase 
of the same water, and sprinkle it over any object that you may 
desire to change back again from gold into its former substance. 
If you do this in earnestness and sincerity, it may possibly repair 
the mischief which your avarice has occasioned.” 

King Midas bowed low; and when he lifted his head, the 
lustrous stranger had vanished. 

You will easily believe that Midas lost no time in snatching 
up a great earthen pitcher (but, alas me! it was no longer earthen 
after he touched it), and hastening to the riverside. As he scamp- 
ered along, and forced his way through the shrubbery, it was 
positively marvellous to see how the foliage turned yellow behind 
him, as if the autumn had been there, and nowhere else. On 
reaching the river’s brink, he plunged headlong in, without wait- 
ing so much as to pull off his shoes. 

“Poof! poof! poof!” snorted King Midas, as his head emerged 
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out of the water. “Well; this is really a refreshing bath, and 
I think it must have quite washed away the Golden Touch. And 
now for filling my pitcher!” 

As he dipped the pitcher into the water, it gladdened his 
very heart to see it change from gold into the same good, honest 
earthen vessel which it had been before he touched it. He was 
conscious, also, of a change within himself. A cold, hard, and 
heavy weight seemed to have gone out of his bosom. No doubt, 
his heart had been gradually losing its human substance, and 
transmuting itself into insensible metal, but had now softened 
back again into flesh. Perceiving a violet that grew on the 
bank of the river, Midas touched it with his finger, and was 
overjoyed to find that the delicate flower retained its purple 
hue, instead of undergoing a yellow blight. The curse of the 
Golden Touch had, therefore, really been removed from him. 

King Midas hastened back to the palace. The first thing 
he did, as you need hardly be told, was to sprinkle it by handfuls 
over the golden figure of little Marygold. 

No sooner did it fall on her than you would have laughed 
to see how she began to sneeze and sputter!— and how astonished 
she was to find herself dripping wet, and her father still throw- 
ing more water over her. 

“Pray do not, dear father,” cried she. “See how you have 
wet my nice frock, which I put on only this morning!” 

For Marygold did not know that she had been a little golden 
statue; nor could she remember anything that had happened 
since the moment when she ran with out-stretched arms to com- 
fort poor King Midas. 

Her father did not think it necessary to tell his beloved child 
how very foolish he had been, but contented himself with show- 
ing how much wiser he had now grown. For this purpose he 
led little Marygold into the garden, where he sprinkled all the 

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remainder of the water over the rose bushes, and with such good 
effect that above five thousand roses recovered their beautiful 
bloom. There were two circumstances, however, which as long 
as he lived, used to put King Midas in mind of the Golden Touch. 
One was, that the sands of the river sparkled like gold; the other, 
that little Marygold’s hair had now a golden tinge, which he had 
never observed in it before she had been transmuted by the 
effect of his kiss. 

When King Midas had grown quite an old man, and used to 
trot Marygold’s children on his knee, he was fond of telling them 
this marvellous story. And then would he stroke their glossy 
ringlets, and tell them that their hair, likewise, had a rich shade 
of gold. 

“And to tell you the truth, my precious little folks,” quoth 
King Midas, diligently trotting the children all the while, “ever 
since that morning, I have hated the very sight of all other gold, 
save this!” 



Tell me, O Rose, what thing it is 
That now appears, now vanishes? 

Surely it took its fire-green hue 

From daybreaks that it glittered through; 

Quick, for this sparkle of the dawn 
Glints through the garden and is gone! 

What was the message, Rose, what word: 

Delight foretold, or hope deferred? 

★Reprinted with the permission of the Author and the Publishers, Doubleday, Page & Co. 

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MY BOOK HOUSE 



THE ACORN AND THE PUMPKIN 
La Fontaine 

God’s works are good. To prove this truth 
I need not search the world, forsooth! 

I do it by the nearest Pumpkin! 

“Fie! fruit so large on vine so small!” 
Exclaimed one day a wise young bumpkin! 
“What could He mean who made us all? 
This Pumpkin here is out of place. 

If I had ordered in this case, 

Upon that oak it should have hung — 

A noble fruit as ever swung 
To grace a tree so firm and strong. 


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THROUGH FAIRY HALLS 

Indeed there’s been a great mistake! 

Had my opinion but been sought, 

When God set out the world to make, 

All things had then been as they ought! 

All things had then in order come! 

This Acorn for example, 

No bigger than my thumb, 

Had not disgraced a tree so ample. 

The more I think, the more I wonder! 

The Pumpkin on the oak should grow, 

The Acorn on the vine below; 

God surely made an awful blunder!” 

With such reflections proudly fraught. 

Our Sage grew tired of mighty thought, 

And threw himself on Nature’s lap, 

Beneath an oak, to take a nap. 

It chanced that during his repose, 

An Acorn fell plump on his nose! 

He wakened with a mighty start; 

He shrieked and seized the injured part! 

“Oh! Oh! alas! I bleed! I bleed! 

This Acorn ’twas that did the deed! 

I see that God had reasons good, 

And all His works were understood, 

For, truly, what had been my woes, 

Had, then, a Pumpkin whacked my nose!” 

Thus home he went in humbler mood! 



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THE GOLDEN BIRD 
A German Fairy Tale 

N the olden time there was a king, who had behind his 
palace a beautiful pleasure garden in which there was a 
tree that bore golden apples. One day when the apples 
were getting ripe, they were counted, but on the very 
next morning one was missing. This was told to the 
King and he ordered that a watch should be kept every night 
beneath the tree. 

The King had three sons, the eldest of whom he sent as soon 
as night came on, into the garden; but when it was about mid- 
night he could not keep himself from sleeping, and next morning 
again an apple was gone. 

The following night the second son had to keep watch. It 
fared no better with him; as soon as twelve o’clock had struck 
he fell asleep, and in the morning an apple was gone. 

Now it came to the turn of the third son to watch; and he was 
quite ready. The King had not much trust in him and thought 
that he would be of less use even than his brothers, but at last 
he let him go. The youth lay down beneath the tree, but kept 
awake and did not let sleep master him. When it struck twelve, 
he was still at his post watching. Then soinething rustled through 
the air, and in the moonlight he saw a bird coming whose feathers 
were all shining with gold. The bird alighted on the tree, and 
had just plucked off an apple, when the youth shot an arrow at 
him. The bird flew off, but the arrow had struck his plumage 
and one of his golden feathers fell down. The youth picked it 
up and the next morning took it to the King and told him what 
he had seen in the night. The King declared at once : 

“The rascal that carries off my apples is none other than the 
beautiful Golden Bird that was stolen long ago from my garden. 
He must be found and restored to me.” 



292 



THROUGH FAIRY HALLS 


So the eldest son set out. He trusted to his own cleverness 
and thought he would easily find the Golden Bird. When he 
had gone some distance he saw a Fox sitting at the edge of a wood. 
So he cocked his gun and took aim at him. 

“Do not shoot me,” cried the Fox, “and in return I will give 
you some good counsel. You are on the way to find the Golden 
Bird; this evening you will come to a village in which stand two 
inns opposite to one another. One of them is lighted up brightly 
and all goes on merrily within, but do not go into it; go rather into 
the other, even though it seems a very plain one.” 

“How should such a silly beast give advice to a wise fellow 
like me?” thought the King’s son, and he pulled the trigger. 
But he missed the Fox who stretched out his tail and ran quickly 
into the wood. 

So the King’s son pursued his way, and by evening came to 
the village where the two inns were ; in one all the lights were lit, 
and there was singing and dancing, but the other had a poor, 
plain, dingy look. 

“I should be a fool indeed,” he thought, “if I were to go 
into the shabby tavern and pass by the good one.” So he went 
into the cheerful inn, lived there in pleasure and revelling and 
forgot the bird and his father and all good counsel. 

When some months had passed and the eldest did not come 
back home, the second son set out to find the Golden Bird. The 
Fox met him as he had met the eldest and gave him the same good 
advice. But the second brother likewise paid no heed to his 
counsel. He came to the two inns; and his brother was standing 
at the window of the one from which came the music, and called 
out to him. He could not resist, but went inside, lived only for 
pleasure and forgot the bird and all good counsel. 

Again months passed and then the King’s youngest son wanted 
to set off to find the bird. For some time his father would not 


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MY BOOK HOUSE 

allow it. “How should such a young know- 
nothing find the bird when his elder bro- 
thers have failed?” said he. But at last, 
as the lad gave him no peace, he let him 
go. Again the Fox was sitting outside the 
wood and offered his advice . Now the young- 
est son was good natured and modest, and 
willing to take good counsel, so he said to 
the Fox: 

“Be easy, little Fox, I will do you no 
harm, but will follow your advice.” 

“You shall not repent it,” answered the Fox. “And that you 
may get on more quickly, get up behind on my tail.” Scarcely 
had the King’s son seated himself when the Fox began to run, 
and away he went over stock and stone till his hair whistled in 
the wind. When they came to the village the youth got off. 
He followed the good advice, and without looking around turned 
into the little inn, where he spent the night quietly. 

The next morning, as soon as he got into the open country, 
there sat the Fox already and said, “I will tell you further what 
you have to do. Go on straight ahead and at last you will come 
to the castle where lives the King who has your father’s bird. 
In front of the castle lies a whole regiment of soldiers but do not 
trouble yourself about them, for they will all be asleep and snoring. 
Go straight through the midst of them into the castle, and go 
through all the rooms till at last you will come to a chamber 
where the Golden Bird hangs in a plain wooden cage. Close 
by, there stands an empty gold cage which is very splendid. 
But that cage is all for show. Beware of taking the bird out of 
the plain cage and putting it into the fine one or it may go badly 
with you.” With these words, the Fox again stretched out his 
tail, the King’s son seated himself upon it and away and away 



294 


THROUGH FAIRY HALLS 


he went over stock and stone till his hair whistled in the wind. 

When he came to the castle, he found everything as the Fox 
had said. Through the midst of the snoring soldiers he made 
his way, and so on into the chamber where stood the Golden Bird. 
He was shut up in a wooden cage with the golden apples lying near. 
Hard by, stood the splendid golden cage, and as the King’s son 
looked at it, he thought: 

“It would be absurd if I were to leave the beautiful bird in 
the common and ugly cage.” So he opened the door, laid hold 
of the bird and put it into the golden cage. At the same moment 
the bird uttered a shrill cry, the soldiers awoke, rushed in and 
dragged the youth off to prison. The next morning he was 
taken before a court of justice and sentenced to death. 

The King of the country, however, said that he would grant 
him his life on one condition— namely, if he brought him the 
Golden Horse which ran faster than the wind. And in that case 
he should receive, over and above, as a reward, the Golden Bird. 

The King’s son set off, but he sighed and was very sorrowful 
for how was he ever to find the Golden Horse? All at once, he 
saw his old friend, the Fox, sitting in the middle of the road. 

“Look you,” said the Fox, “this has happened because you 
did not give heed to me, but be of good courage, I will give you my 
help again, and tell you how to get to the Golden Horse.” 



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MY BOOK HOUSE 


At this, the King’s son rejoiced and promised once more to 
obey him. 

“You must go straight on,” said the Fox, “and you will 
come to a castle where in the stable, stands the Horse. The 
grooms will be lying in front of the stable but they will be asleep 
and snoring, and you can quietly lead out the Golden Horse. 
Of one thing only you must take heed; put on him the common 
saddle of wood and leather, and not the golden one, which hangs 
close by, else it will go ill with you.” 

Then the Fox stretched out his tail, the King’s son seated 
himself upon it and away he went over stock and stone till his 
hair whistled in the wind. 

Everything happened just as the Fox had said; the prince 
came to the stable in which the Golden Horse was standing, but 
just as he was going to put the plain saddle upon him, he thought: 

“It will be a shame to such a beautiful beast, if I do not give 
him the splendid saddle which belongs to him by right.” So 
he flung the golden saddle over the horse’s back. Scarcely had 
he done so when the horse began to neigh loudly. The grooms 
awoke, seized the youth and threw him into prison. The next 
morning he was sentenced by the court to death, but the King 
promised to grant him his life and the Golden Horse as well, if he 
would bring back the Beautiful Princess from the Golden Castle. 

“The Beautiful Princess,” he said, “is my promised bride, 
but her guardian keeps her forcibly from me.” 

With a heavy heart the youth set out, yet soon he found 
the trusty Fox. 

“I ought only to leave you to the consequences of your own 
disobedience,” said the Fox, “but I pity you and will help you 
once more out of your trouble. This road takes you straight to 
the Golden Castle. You will reach it by eventide; and at night 
when everything is quiet, the Beautiful Princess goes from the 

296 


THROUGH FAIRY HALLS 


castle to the bathing house in the castle yard. When she enters 
it run up to her and give her a kiss, then she will wish to follow 
you and you can take her away with you. Only remember this, 
do not allow her to take leave of anyone in the castle.” 

Then the Fox stretched out his tail, the King’s son seated 
himself upon it and away the Fox went over stock and stone 
till his hair whistled in the wind. 

When he reached the Golden Castle, it was just as the Fox 
had said. He waited until midnight when everything lay in 
deep sleep, and the Beautiful Princess was going to the bathing 
house. Then he sprang out and gave her a kiss. She said at once 
that she would like to go with him, but she asked him pitifully 
and with tears to allow her to take leave of the King, her guardian. 
At first he withstood her request, but when she begged more 
and more earnestly and fell at his feet, he at last gave in. No 
sooner had the maiden reached the bedside of the King, than he 
and all the rest of the castle awoke, and the youth was laid hold 
of and cast into prison. 

“You may only have the Beautiful Princess if you take away 
the hill which shuts off the view from my windows,” said the King, 
“and you must finish your work within eight days.” 

The King’s son began and dug and shovelled without leaving 
off, but after seven days he saw how little he had done, so he 
fell into great sorrow and gave up all hope. On the evening 
of the seventh day, however, the Fox appeared and said: 

“You do not deserve that I should take any more trouble 
about you, nevertheless you have faithfully tried to fulfill your 
task, so lie down to sleep, I will finish it for you.” 

The next morning when the King’s son awoke and looked out 
of the window the hill was gone. Full of joy, he ran to the King 
and told him the task was performed, and whether he liked it or 
not, the King had to keep his promise and give up the Princess. 
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So the King’s son and the Princess set forth together, and it 
was not long before the trusty Fox came up with them. Then 
the King’s son told the Princess how he was taking her to be the 
bride of the King who had the Golden Horse. But the Beautiful 
Princess wept and said it was not true she was promised to him 
and she did not wish to be his bride. All she wanted was to go 
home with the King’s son. Besides, the Golden Horse did not 
belong to the wicked old King at all. It was her own and he had 
stolen it from her. So the good Fox said to the King’s son: 

“If the Beautiful Princess chooses you, yours she must be. 
Go now and recover for her her Golden Horse.” 

“But how may I get the Horse and keep the Princess if I go, 
one man as I am, to that rascally King who has a castle full of 
soldiers?” asked the King’s son. 

“That I will tell you,” answered the Fox. “First take the 
beautiful Maiden to the King. Thinking he has her at last in 
his power, he will rejoice and gladly have her Golden Horse led 
forth to exchange. Mount it as soon as possible, then take the 
Princess by the hand, swing her up on to the horse before you 
and gallop swiftly away. No one will be able to bring you back.” 

All was brought to pass successfully, and the King’s son in 
spite of all the soldiers about, carried off the Beautiful Princess 
on the Golden Horse. 

The Fox did not remain behind and he said to the youth, 
“Now I will help you to recover your father’s Golden Bird. When 
you come near the castle where the Golden Bird is to be found, 
let the Maiden down and I will take her into my care. Then 
ride with the Golden Horse boldly into the castle yard. When 
the Golden Bird is brought forth, seize the cage in your hand 
and gallop away to us like the wind.” 

Well, this plan succeeded, too, and the King’s son was about 
to ride home with all his wonderful treasures, when the Fox said: 

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THROUGH FAIRY HALLS 



“Now you are returning home with good success, yet before 
I leave you, I will give you still one more piece of advice. Be 
careful about two things. Do not beg off any thief or other 
malefactor from his punishment and do not sit at the edge of 
any well.” And then he ran off into the wood. 

So the Prince rode on with the beautiful maiden and his road 


299 


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HOUSE 


took him again through the village in which his two brothers had 
remained. There was a great stir and noise there and when he 
asked what was going on, he was told that two men were going 
to be hanged for their many evil deeds. As he came nearer to 
the place he saw that the two men were his two brothers, who 
had been playing all kinds of wicked pranks in the neighborhood. 
At once he began to think that he should like to get his brothers 
off from their punishment, and he inquired whether there was 
any way by which he could set them free.. “If you will pay for 
them they may go free,” answered the people. “But why should 
you waste your money on setting free wicked men when they 
have by no means repented the evil they have done?” But 
the King’s son did not think twice about it. He paid for 
his brothers and when they were set free, they all went on their 
way together. Soon they came to the wood where the Fox had 
first met them. The sun shone hotly outside, but within the 
wood it was cool and pleasant, so the two brothers said: 

“Let us rest a little here by the well and eat and drink.” 
The Prince agreed and forgetting once more the Fox’s counsel, 
he sat down upon the edge of the well. At once the two brothers 
threw him backward into the well. Then they took the maiden, 
the Horse, and the Bird, and went home to their father. 

“Here we bring you not only the Golden Bird,” said they, 
“we have won the Golden Horse also, and the maiden from the 
Golden Castle.” And they threatened the Princess with death 
if she told the truth. So the King believed their tale and rejoiced 
greatly, but the Horse would not eat, the Bird would not sing, 
and the Maiden sat and wept. 

Meantime it happened that the well into which they had 
cast the younger brother was dry and he fell upon soft moss 
without being hurt at all, but he could not get out again. Now 
even in this strait the faithful Fox did not leave him. It came 


300 


THROUGH FAIRY HALLS 


bounding along, leapt straight down to him in the pit, and said: 

“Once again by your disobedience you have forfeited all right 
to my help, yet I cannot leave you altogether. I will give you 
one more chance to follow my advice and even at this late day 
if you are obedient, you may still be happy. Your brothers have 
surrounded the wood with watchers who are to kill you if you 
are ever able to get out of this well. So you must change clothes 
with the man who is cutting wood up above by the roadside, then 
none will recognize you and you will pass safely by the men 
your brothers have set to catch you. But mind you wear the 
poor clothes you will get from the woodcutter, and do not exchange 
them for fine ones till you are safe in your father’s presence.” 

Then the Fox bade the Prince grasp his tail and keep tight 
hold of it, and so he pulled him up out of the well. There the 
youth exchanged his good clothes for the ragged ones of the 
woodcutter and in this way he arrived safely at his father’s castle. 
Now he would have liked to exchange his poor clothes for fine 
ones before he came into the presence of his father and the 
beautiful Maiden, but this time he remembered the Fox’s wise 
counsel and obeyed him. Thus no man knew who he was and 
the elder brothers never even dreamed that he was in the castle, 
but all of a sudden the Bird began to sing, the Horse began to eat 
and the beautiful Maiden left off weeping. 

“I am so happy,” she said, “I feel as if my true bridegroom 
had come.” And she grew so full of courage, withal, that she 
told the King the whole story of what the elder brothers had done. 

At once the King commanded that all people who were in 
his castle should be brought before him, and amongst them came 
the youth in his ragged clothes. But the Maiden knew him at 
once and fell upon his neck. So the wicked brothers were beaten 
out of the Kingdom, but the Prince married the Princess, the Fox 
was ever their friend, and nothing was wanting to their happiness. 


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MY BOOK HOUSE 



THE BELLS 
Edgar Allan Poe 

Hear the sledges with the bells — 

Silver bells! 

What a world of merriment their melody foretells! 
How they tinkle, tinkle, tinkle, 

In the icy air of night! 

While the stars, that oversprinkle 
All the heavens, seem to twinkle 
With a crystalline delight; 

Keeping time, time, time, 

In a sort of Runic rhyme, 

To the tin-tin-nab-u-la-tion that so musically wells 
From the bells, bells, bells, bells, 

Bells, bells, bells — 

From the jingling and the tinkling of the bells. 


302 


THROUGH FAIRY HALLS 

THE SNOW QUEEN 

Hans Christian Andersen 

p"*"?VS\NCE upon a time there was a wicked, mischievous 
Hobgoblin. One day he was in a very good humor be- 
cause he had made a mirror with the power of causing 
all that was good and beautiful, when it was reflected 
therein, to look poor and mean; while that which was good 
for nothing and ugly, stood out and looked worse than ever. 
In this mirror the most beautiful landscapes looked like boiled 
spinach, and the best persons were turned into frights, or 
appeared to stand on their heads. “That’s glorious fun!’’ 
said the Hobgoblin. 

All the little Hobgoblins told each other that now only would 
it be possible to see how the world really looked. They ran about 
with the mirror; and at last there was not a land or a person 
who was not represented there twisted all out of shape. So 
then they thought they would fly up to the sky, and have a joke 
there. The higher they flew with the mirror, the more terribly 
it grinned; they could hardly hold it fast. Suddenly the mirror 
shook so terribly with grinning, that it flew out of their hands 
and fell to the earth, where it was dashed in a hundred million 
pieces. And now it worked much more evil than before; for 
some of these pieces ' were hardly so large as a grain of sand, 
and they flew about in the wide world, and when they got into 
people’s eyes there they stayed; and then people saw everything 
perverted, or only had an eye for that which was evil. Some 
persons even got a splinter in their heart, and then their heart 
became a lump of ice. Then the wicked Hobgoblin laughed till 
he almost choked, for all this tickled his fancy. The fine splinters 
still flew about in the air; and now we shall hear what happened 

I 

In a large town, where there are so many houses and so many 
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MY BOOK HOUSE 

people that there is no room left for everybody to have a gar- 
den, there lived two little children. They were not brother and 
sister, but they loved each other just as much as if they were. 
Their parents lived opposite each other in two attic rooms. The 
roof of one house just touched the roof of the other with only 
a rain water gutter between them. They each had a little dor- 
mer window so one had only to step over the gutter to get from 
one window to the other. Out on the leads the parents had 
placed two wooden boxes, in which grew pea vines, vegetables, 
and some little rose trees. In summer the children were allowed 
to take their little stools and sit out on the roof among the roses, 
where they could play delightfully. In winter there was an 
end of this pleasure. The windows were often frozen over; 
but then they heated copper pennies on the stove, and laid the 
hot pennies on the window-pane. Thus they made capital 
peep-holes through which to look out at each other. The boy’s 
name was Kay, the girl’s was Gerda. In summer, with one 
jump, they could get to each other; but in winter they were obliged 
first to go down the long stairs, and then up the long stairs again, 
and out-of-doors there was quite a snow-storm. 

“It is the white bees that are swarming,” said Kay’s old 
grandmother. 

“Do the white bees choose a queen?” asked the little boy; 
for he knew that the honey-bees always have one. 

“Yes,” said the grandmother, “she flies where the swarm 
hangs in the thickest clusters. She is the largest of all; and 
she never stays quietly on the earth, but flies up again into the 
black clouds. Many a winter’s night she flits through the streets 
of the town, and peeps in at the windows; and then they freeze 
in wonderful patterns that look like flowers.” 

“Yes, I have seen it,” said both the children. 

In the evening, when little Kay was home, and half 


304 



undressed, he climbed up on the chair by the window, and peeped 
out of the little hole. A few snow-flakes were falling, and one, 
the largest of all, remained lying on the edge of the flower-pot. 
The flake of snow grew larger and larger and at last it was like 
a beautiful maiden, dressed in the finest white gauze, made of 
a million little flakes, like stars. She was so lovely and deli- 
cate, but she was of ice, of dazzling, sparkling ice; her eyes glit- 
tered like two stars; but there was neither rest nor peace in them. 
She nodded toward the window, and beckoned with her hand. 
The little boy was frightened, and jumped down from the chair. 
Then he fancied that a great white bird flew away. 


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MY BOOK HOUSE 


The next day was sharp and frosty, and then the spring came; 
the sun shone, green leaves appeared, swallows built their 
nests, windows were opened, and the little children again sat in 
their pretty garden, high up on the leads at the top of the house. 

That summer the roses flowered in unwonted beauty. The 
little girl had learned a hymn, in which there was something 
about roses, and she sang it to the little boy, who then sang it 
with her: — 

“The rose in the valley is blooming so sweet. 

The Child Jesus is there the children to greet.” 

And the children held each other by the hand, kissed the roses, 
and rejoiced in God’s bright sunshine. What lovely summer days 
those were! How delightful to be out in the air, near the fresh rose- 
bushes, that seemed as if they would never finish blooming! 

One day Kay and Gerda were looking at a picture-book 
— the clock in the church-tower was just striking five — when 
Kay cried, “O! Something struck me sharply in the heart; and 
now something has got into my eye!” 

The little girl threw her arms around his neck. He winked 
his eyes; no, she could see nothing in them. 

“I think it is out now,” said he; but it was not. It was one 
of those pieces of glass that had got into his eye— a splinter from 
the magic mirror that made everything great and good look 
mean and ugly; and poor Kay had got another piece right in his 
heart, which began to turn into a lump of ice. 

“Why are you crying?” asked he. “It makes you look so 
ugly! There’s nothing the matter with me. Ah,” said he at 
once, “that rose is worm-eaten, and look, this one is quite stunted! 
What ugly roses they are!” and he gave the box a kick and broke 
off both the roses. 

“What are you doing?” cried the little girl. As he saw her 

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THROUGH FAIRY HALLS 

alarm, he pulled up another rose, ran in at his own window, 
and left dear little Gerda alone. 

When she next brought out her picture book, he said it was 
only fit for babies, and if his grandmother told him stories, he 
always interrupted her; besides, if he could manage it, he would 
get behind her, put on her spectacles, and imitate her way of 
speaking. He was soon able to imitate the gait and manner of 
every one in the street. Everything that was peculiar and dis- 
pleasing in them,— that Kay made fun of. It was the glass he 
had got in his eye, the glass that was sticking in his heart, which 
made him tease even Gerda, whose whole soul was devoted to him. 

His games now were quite different from what they had been. 
One winter’s day, when the snow was falling, he spread out his 
coat, and caught the snow. Then he took a magnifying glass. 

“Look through this glass, Gerda,” said he. Every flake 
seemed larger, and appeared like a lovely flower, or a sharply- 
pointed star: it was splendid to look at! “That’s much more in- 
teresting than real flowers !” said Kay. “ They are all made exact- 
ly by rule; there is no fault in them. If only they did not melt!” 

Shortly after this, Kay appeared one day with his warm 
gloves on, and his little sledge at his back. He bawled right 
into Gerda’s ears, “I’m going out into the square to play with 
the other boys,” and away he went. 

There, in the market-place, the boldest boys used to hitch 
their sledges to the carts as they passed, and so they got a good 
ride. It was such fun! Just as they were in the very height 
of their amusement, a large sledge appeared in the square; it 
was painted white, and there was some one in it who wore a white 
fur coat and a white fur cap. The sledge drove round the square 
twice. Kay tied his little sledge to it, and off he drove. On 
they went quicker and quicker into the next street; the person 
who drove turned round to Kay, and nodded to him in a friendly 

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manner, just as if they knew each other. Every time he was 
going to untie his sledge the driver nodded to him, and then 
Kay sat still once more. So on they went till they came out- 
side the gates of the town. Then the snow began to fall so 
thickly, that the little boy could not see an arm’s length before 
him, but still on he went; suddenly he let go the string he held 
in his hand in order to get loose from the big sledge, but it was 
of no use; his little sledge hung fast and on he went like the 
wind. He cried out, but no one heard him. The snow drifted 
and the sledge flew on. Sometimes it gave a jerk as though 
they were driving over hedges and ditches. He was quite fright- 
ened, and he tried to repeat the Lord’s Prayer; but he was only 
able to remember the multiplication table. 

The snow-flakes grew larger and larger, till they looked like 
great white birds. Suddenly the large sledge stopped, and 
the person who drove rose up. It was a lady, tall, slim and glit- 
tering, her cloak and cap of snow. It was the Snow-Queen. 

“We have travelled fast,” said she. “It is freezingly cold; 
creep in under my coat.” And she put him in the sledge beside. 

308 


THROUGH FAIRY HALLS 


her, and wrapped the fur round him. He felt as though he 
were sinking into a snow-drift. 

“Are you still cold?” she asked, and kissed his forehead. 
Ah! the kiss was cold as ice; it went to his very heart, which was 
already almost a frozen lump; but a moment more and he grew 
to like it. He no longer felt the cold that was around him. 

“My sledge! Don’t forget my sledge!” It was the first 
thing he thought of, and there it was, tied to one of the white 
birds, who flew along behind with it on his back. The Snow- 
Queen kissed Kay once more, and then he forgot little Gerda, 
grandmother, and all whom he had left at his home. 

Kay looked at her. She was very beautiful; a more clever 
or a more lovely face he could not fancy to himself; and she 
no longer appeared of ice as before, when she sat outside the 
window, and beckoned to him; in his eyes she was perfect. He 
did not fear her at all, and told her that he could do arithmetic 
sums in his head, and with fractions even; that he knew the 
number of square miles there were in the different countries, 
and how many inhabitants they contained; and she smiled while 
he spoke. On she flew with him; high over the black clouds 
while the storm moaned and whistled. On they flew over woods 
and lakes, over seas and many lands. Beneath them, the wolves 
howled, the snow crackled; above flew large screaming crows, 
and higher still the moon shone, large and bright. 

II 

But what became of little Gerda when Kay did not return? 
Where could he be? Nobody knew. All the other boys could 
tell was that they had seen him tie his sledge to another large 



309 


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HOUSE 


and splendid one, which drove down the street and out of the 
town. Little Gerda wept long and bitterly. 

At last spring came with its warm sunshine. 

“I’ll put on my red shoes,” said she. “Kay has never seen 
them; then I’ll go down to the river and ask if he has fallen in.” 

So she kissed her grandmother, who was still asleep, put 
on her red shoes, and went alone to the river. 

“Is it true that you have taken my little playfellow?” she 
asked. “I will make you a present of my red shoes, if you will 
give him back to me.” 

The blue waves nodded in a strange manner, it seemed to 
her, so she took off her red shoes, the most precious things she 
possessed, and threw them both into the river. But they fell 
close to the bank, and the little waves bore them immediately 
back to her. Gerda thought she had not thrown them out far 
enough, so she clambered into a boat which lay among the rushes, 
went to the farthest end, and threw out the shoes again. The 
boat was not fastened, and her movements made it drift from 
the shore. She felt it moving and tried to get out; but already it 
was more than a yard from the land, and gliding quickly onward. 

Little Gerda began to cry; but no one heard her except the 
Sparrows. So she sat quite still with only her stockings on. 
Her little red shoes swam behind, but they could not catch the 
boat, it went so much faster than they. 

The banks on both sides were beautiful, with lovely flowers, 
fine old trees, and slopes dotted with sheep and cows, but not a 
human being anywhere to be seen. 

“Perhaps the river will carry me to little Kay,” said she; 
and then she grew less sad. Presently she sailed by a large 
cherry-orchard, where stood a little cottage with curious red 
and blue windows; it was thatched, and before it two wooden 
soldiers stood sentry, presenting arms when any one went past. 


310 


THROUGH FAIRY HALLS 

Gerda called to them, for she thought they were alive; but 
they, of course, did not answer. As the stream drove the boat 
quite near the land, she called out louder still and then an old 
woman came out of the cottage, leaning upon a crooked stick. 
She wore a large broad-brimmed hat which was painted with 
the most beautiful flowers. 

“Poor little child!” said the old Woman; then she went into 
the water, caught hold of the boat with her crooked stick, drew 
it to the bank, and lifted little Gerda out. “Come and tell me 
who you are, and how you came here.” 

When Gerda had told her everything, and asked her if she 
had seen little Kay, the Woman answered that he had not passed 
there yet, but he no doubt would come. She told her not to be 
sad, but to taste her cherries, and look at her flowers. Then 
she took Gerda by the hand, led her into the little cottage, and 
locked the door. 

The windows were very high up; the glass was red, blue, 
and green, and the sunlight shone through quite wondrously 
in all sorts of colors. On the table stood the most delicious 
cherries, and the old Woman let Gerda eat as many as she chose, 
while she combed her hair with a golden comb so it curled and 
shone like gold round that sweet little face that was so like a rose. 

“I have often longed for such a dear little girl,” said the 
old Woman. “Now you shall see how happy we shall be 
together.” And while she combed little Gerda’s hair, the child 
forgot her foster-brother Kay more and more, for the old Woman 
understood magic, and she wanted very much to keep little 
Gerda. She therefore went out into the garden, and stretched 
out her crooked stick towards the rose-bushes. Beautifully as 
they were blooming, they all sank into the earth, and no one 
could tell where they had stood. She feared that if Gerda saw the 
roses, she would remember Kay and run away to seek him 

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She now led Gerda into the garden. O, what fragrance and 
what loveliness was there! Every flower that one could think of, 
and of every season, stood there in fullest bloom. Gerda jumped 
for joy, and played till the sun set behind the cherry-trees. 
Then she was put into a pretty bed, with a red silken coverlet 
filled with violets. There she slept and had pleasant dreams. 

The next morning she played again with the flowers in the 
warm sunshine, and so many days passed by. Gerda knew every 
flower; but however many they were, it still seemed to her that 
one was missing, though she did not know which. One day, 
while she was looking at the old Woman’s hat that was painted 
with flowers, the most beautiful of them all seemed to her to be 
a rose. The old Woman had forgotten to take the rose from her 
hat when she made the others vanish in the earth. “What!” 
said Gerda; “are there no roses here?” and she ran about amongst 
the flower-beds, and looked, and looked, but there was not one 
to be found. Then she sat down and wept; but her hot tears 
fell just where a rose-bush had sunk; and when they watered 
the ground, the tree shot up suddenly fresh and blooming. 
Gerda kissed the roses, and thought at once of little Kay. 

“O how long I have stayed! I intended to look for Kay!” 
And off ran Gerda to the further end of the garden. 

The gate was locked, but she shook the rusted bolt till it 
was loosened, and the gate opened; out she ran with her little 
bare feet and no one followed her. At last she could run no 
longer so she sat down on a large stone. Then she saw that 


312 


THROUGH FAIRY HALLS 


summer had passed; it was late autumn, though no one would 
ever have known it in the beautiful garden she had left where 
there were always flowers and sunshine the whole year round. 

“Dear me, how long I have stayed!’’ said Gerda. “I must 
not rest any longer.” And she sprang up to run on. 


Ill 


At length Gerda had to rest herself again, and there came 
hopping towards her over the snow a large raven. He had long 
been looking at Gerda and shaking his head; and now he said, 
“Caw! caw! Good day! Good day!” And he asked her 
where she was going all alone. So Gerda told him her whole 
story, and asked if he had seen Kay. 

The Raven nodded very gravely, and said, “It may be— it 


“What! do you 
really think so?” cried 
the little girl; and she 
nearly smothered the 
Raven with kisses. 


may be!” 


“Gently, gently,” 
said the Raven. “I 
think I know; I think 
that it may be little 
Kay. But now he 
has forgotten you for 
the Princess.” 


“ Does he live with 
a princess ?” asked 
Gerda. 


“Yes,” said the 
Raven. 


“O, won’t you take 



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me to the palace?” said Gerda. “When Kay hears that I am 
here, he will come out directly to fetch me.” 

So the Raven led Gerda into a garden, where one leaf 
was falling after the other; and when the lights in the 
palace had all gradually disappeared, he took her to the back- 
door, which stood half open. 

O how Gerda’s heart beat with anxiety and longing! She 
wanted so to know if little Kay was there. They were now on 
the stairs where a single lamp was burning. Then they entered 
the first apartment which was of rose-colored satin, with arti- 
ficial flowers on the wall. Each hall was more magnificent than 
the other. At last they came into a room where the ceiling was 
made of great leaves of glass; from this were hung by golden 
ropes two beds, each shaped like a lily. One was white, and in 
this lay the Princess; the other was red, and it was here that 
Gerda hoped to find little Kay. She bent back one of the red 
leaves, and saw a brown neck — O, that was Kay! She called 
him quite loudly by name, and held the lamp toward him — he 
awoke, turned his head, and— it was not little Kay at all! 

The Prince was only like him about the neck. Then out of 
the white lily leaves the Princess peeped too, and asked what 
was the matter. Little Gerda cried and told them her story. 

“Poor little thing!” said the Prince and the Princess, and 
they put Gerda to bed. “How good men and animals are 
to me,” thought the child as she fell asleep. 

The next day she was dressed from head to foot in silk and 
velvet. They offered to let her stay at the palace, and lead 
a happy life; but she would not. She begged to have a little 
carriage with a horse in front, and a small pair of shoes, so that 
she might go forth in the wide world and look for Kay. 

Shoes and a muff were given her; and when she was about 
to set off, a new carriage drew up before the door. It was of 

314 


THROUGH FAIRY HALLS 


pure gold, and the arms of the Prince and Princess shone like 
a star upon it; inside, it was lined with sugar plums and in the 
seats were fruits and gingerbread. The coachman, the foot- 
men, and the outriders all wore golden crowns. The Prince 
and the Princess assisted Gerda into the carriage themselves, 
and wished her all success, while the Raven accompanied her for the 
first three miles. Then the Raven bade her farewell, flew into 
a tree, and beat his wings as long as he could see the carriage. 

IV 

They drove through the dark wood; but the carriage shone 
like a torch, and caught the eyes of robbers. 

“It’s gold! It’s gold!” cried they; and they rushed forward, 
seized the horses, knocked down the postilion, the coachman, 
and servants, and pulled little Gerda out of the carriage. 

“How plump, how beautiful she is! She looks good enough 
to eat,” said the old Robber-woman, who had a long scrubby 
beard, and bushy eyebrows that hung down over her eyes. Then 
she drew out a knife, the blade of which shone and glittered. 

“Ah,” cried her little daughter who was very spoiled and 
very headstrong, “but you shall not touch her. She shall give 
me her muff, and her pretty frock! She shall play with me 
and sleep in my bed!” 

The little Robber-maiden was as tall as Gerda, but stronger, 
broader-shouldered, and of dark complexion. Her eyes were 
quite black; they looked almost sad. She threw her arms around 
Gerda and said, “They shall not hurt you as long as I am not 
displeased with you. You are a princess, aren’t you?” 

“No,” said little Gerda; and she then told all that had hap- 
pened to her, and how much she loved little Kay. 

The Robber-maiden looked at her with a serious air, and 
nodded her head slightly, then she dried Gerda’s eyes, and put 
both her hands in the handsome muff which was so soft and warm. 

315 


MY BOOK HOUSE 

“If you are naughty” said she “no one else shall kill you! 
I’ll do it myself!” And she led Gerda off to the courtyard 
of the robber’s castle. It was full of cracks from top to 
bottom, and out of the holes ravens and crows were flying; 
great bull dogs, each of which looked as if he could swallow 
a man, jumped up, but they did not bark, for that was forbidden. 
In the midst of the large, old, smoky hall burnt a great fire on 
the stone floor. The smoke all went up to the ceiling where 
it had to find a way. 

“You shall sleep with me to-night, with all my animals,” 
said the little Robber-maiden. They had something to eat and 
drink; and then went into a comer, where straw and carpets 
were lying. Beside them, on laths and perches, sat nearly a 
hundred pigeons. All seemed to be asleep, yet they moved a 
little when the Robber-maiden came. “They are all mine,” 
said she. At the same time she seized one by the legs and shook 
it so that its wings fluttered. “Kiss it!” she cried, and flung 
it in Gerda’s face. “And here is my dear old Bac.” She dragged 
out by the horns a reindeer, that was tied up there. “We 
are obliged to lock this fellow in, or he would make his escape. 
Every evening I tickle his neck with my sharp knife; it makes 
him jump about so!” and the little girl drew forth a long knife 
from a crack in the wall, and let it glide over the reindeer’s neck. 
The poor animal kicked; the girl laughed, and pulled Gerda 
into bed with her. 

“Do you intend to keep your knife while you sleep?” a$ked 
Gerda, looking sidewise at the knife. 

“I always sleep with the knife,” said the little Robber-maiden; 
“there is no knowing what may happen. But tell me now, 
once more, all about little Kay, and why you have started off 
into the wide world alone.” So Gerda related all, from the 
very beginning; the Wood-pigeons cooed above in their cage, 

316 


THROUGH FAIRY HALLS 


and the others slept. Then the little Robber-maiden wound 
her arm round Gerda’s neck, held the knife in the other hand, 
and began to snore so loudly that everybody could hear her. But 
Gerda could not close her eyes. The Robbers sat round the fire, 
sang and drank; and the old Robber Woman jumped about so, 
that it was outlandish to see her. 

Then the Wood-pigeons said, “Coo! coo! we have seen little 
Kay! A white bird carried his sledge! He sat by the side of 
the Snow-Queen. They floated low down over the trees, as 
we lay in our nest. Coo! coo!” 

“Where did the Snow-Queen go?” cried Gerda. “Do you 
know anything about it?” 

“She is no doubt gone to Lapland where there is always 
snow and ice. Ask the reindeer who is tied up here.” 

“Aye, ice and snow indeed! There it is glorious and beau- 
tiful!” said the Reindeer. “You can run and jump about as 



3i7 


MY BOOK HOUSE 


you like on those big glittering plains. The Snow-Queen has 
her summer-tent there; but her fixed home is high up towards 
the North Pole, on the island called Spitzbergen.” 

“O Kay! poor little Kay!” sighed Gerda. 

“Do you choose to be quiet?” said the Robber-maiden. 

In the morning Gerda told her all that the Wood-pigeons 
had said. “Do you know where Lapland is?” asked she of the 
Reindeer. 

“Who should know better than I?” said the animal with 
sparkling eyes. “I was born and bred there on the snow-fields.” 

“Listen,” said the Robber-girl to Gerda, “you see that all 
the robbers are gone. Only my mother is left and she will soon 
fall asleep. Then I shall do something for you.” 

When the Robber-Woman was having a nap, the little Rob- 
ber-maiden went to the Reindeer and said, “ I should like to give 
you still many a tickling with the sharp knife, for then you are 
so amusing; however, I will untie you so that you may go to 
Lapland. But you must go quickly, and take this little girl 
to the Snow-Queen, where her playfellow is.” 

The Reindeer leaped for joy. The Robber-maiden lifted up 
little Gerda, and took care to bind her fast on the Reindeer’s 
back ; she even gave her a small cushion to sit on. “ Here are your 
worsted leggins, for it will be cold,” she said, “the muff I shall 
keep for myself, — for it is so very pretty. But here are my 
mother’s great fur gloves. They will come up to your elbows. 
Creep into them.” 

Gerda wept for joy. 

“Don’t make such faces!” said the little Robber-maiden. 
“This is just the time when you ought to look pleased. Here 
are two loaves and a ham for you.” The bread and the meat 
were fastened to the Reindeer’s back; the little maiden opened 
the door, called in all the dogs, and then with her knife cut the 

318 


THROUGH FAIRY HALLS 

rope that fastened the animal. “Now off with you,” she cried, 
“but take good care of the little girl!” 

Gerda stretched out her hands with the large fur gloves 
towards the Robber-maiden, and said, “Farewell!” Then the 
Reindeer flew on over bush and bramble, through the great wood, 
over swamps and plains. The wolves howled, the ravens screamed, 
and the red lights quivered up in the sky. 

“Those are my dear old northern lights,” said the Reindeer; 
“look how they gleam!” And on he sped faster still, — day and 
night on he went. The loaves were eaten, and the ham too, 
and now they were in Lapland. 

V 

Suddenly they stopped before a little house, which looked 
very miserable; the roof reached to the ground and the door 
was so low that the people had to creep on their hands and knees 
when they went in or out. Nobody was at home except an old 
Lapp woman, who was dressing fish by the light of an oil lamp. 
And the Reindeer told her the whole of Gerda’s story. 

“Poor thing,” said the Lapp woman, “you have far to run 
still. You have more than a hundred miles to go before you 
get to Finland; there the Snow-Queen has her country-house, 
and burns blue lights every evening. I will give you a few words 
from me, written on a dried fish skin, for paper I have none. 
This you can take with you to the Finn woman, and she will 
be able to give you more information than I.” 

When Gerda had warmed herself, and had eaten and drunk, 
the Lapp woman wrote a few words on a dried fish, begged Gerda 
to take care of them, put her on the Reindeer, bound her fast, 
and away sprang the animal. Flicker, flicker blazed the beau- 
tiful northern lights, and at last they came to Finland. They 
knocked at the chimney of the Finn woman, for door she had none. 

There was such a heat inside that the Finn woman herself 


319 


MY BOOK HOUSE 


wore very few 
clothes. She imme- 
diately loosened 
Gerda’s clothes, and 
pulled off her gloves 
and boots, for 
otherwise the heat 
would have been too 
great. Then she 
read and re-read 
what was written on 
the fish-skin. 

The Reindeer told her Gerda’s story, and at which the Finn 
woman winked her eyes, but said nothing. 

“You are so clever,” said the Reindeer; “you can, I know, 
twist all the winds of the world together in a knot. Will you 
give the little maiden a drink that she may possess the strength 
of twelve men, and overcome the Snow-Queen?” 

“The strength of twelve men!” said the Finn woman; “much 
good that would do her! ’Tis true little Kay is at the Snow- 
Queen’s and finds everything there to his taste; he thinks it the 
best place in the world, but the reason of that is, he has a splin- 
ter of glass in his eye and in his heart. These must be got out 
first; otherwise, he will never go back to mankind, and the Snow- 
Queen will keep her power over him.” 

“But can you give little Gerda nothing to take which will 
give her power to conquer all this?” 

“ I can give her no more power than she has already. Don’t 
you see how great is her power? Don’t you see how men and 
animals are forced to serve her; how well she gets through the 
world, barefooted? That power lies in her heart, because she is 



320 


THROUGH FAIRY HALLS 

a sweet and innocent child! If she cannot get to the Snow- 
Queen by herself, and rid little Kay of the glass, we cannot help 
her. Two miles from here the garden of the Snow-Queen begins; 
there you may carry the little girl. Set her down by the large 
bush with red berries, standing in the snow. Don’t stay talk- 
ing, but hasten back as fast as possible.” And now the Finn 
woman placed little Gerda on the Reindeer’s back, and off he 
ran with all imaginable speed. 

“O! I have not got my boots, nor my gloves!” cried little 
Gerda. She missed them in the piercing cold, but the Rein- 
deer dared not stand still. On he ran till he came to the great 
bush with the red berries; there he set Gerda down, and kissed 
her mouth, while bright tears flowed from his eyes. Then back 
he ran. There stood Gerda now, without shoes or gloves, in 
the very middle of freezing, icy Finland. 

She ran on as fast as she could. A whole regiment of snow- 
flakes rushed against her. They did not fall from the sky, for 
it was quite clear, with the northern lights shining brightly. These 
flakes ran along the ground, and the nearer they came the larger 
and more terrific they grew. They were the advance guard of 
the Snow-Queen. Some looked like large ugly porcupines; 
others like knots of snakes, and others like bears, with hair on 
end! All were of dazzling whiteness — all were alive. 

Little Gerda repeated the Lord’s Prayer. The cold was so 
great that her breath froze as it came out of her mouth and she 
could see it like a cloud of smoke in front of her. It grew thicker 
and thicker, till it formed itself into bright little angels, that 
grew bigger and bigger when they touched the earth. All had 
helmets on their heads and spears and shields in their hands, 
more and more of them appeared, and when Gerda had finished 
the Lord’s Prayer, she was surrounded by a whole legion. They 
pierced the snow-flakes with their spears, and shivered them 


3 21 


MY BOOK HOUSE 


into a thousand pieces; so little Gerda walked on bravely and 
in safety through them. The angels patted her hands and feet; 
and then she hardly felt how cold it was, but went on quickly 
towards the palace of the Snow-Queen. 

Now we shall see what Kay was doing. He was not think- 
ing of Gerda, least of all that she stood before the palace. 

VI 

The walls of the palace were of driven snow; and the doors 
and windows of piercing winds. There were more than a hun- 
dred halls there, shaped just as the snow had drifted. The 
largest one stretched for many miles; and all were lit up by the 
cold, precise northern lights. All were so large, so empty, so 
icy, and so glittering! Mirth never reigned there; there was 
never even a little bear-ball, with the storm for music, while 
the polar bears went on their hind-legs and showed off their 
steps; there was never a little tea-party of white young lady 
foxes! In the middle of the empty, endless hall of snow was 
a frozen lake cracked in a thousand pieces, each piece just like 
the other, and in the middle of this lake sat the Snow-Queen 
when she was at home. Then she said she was sitting on the 
Mirror of Reason, and that this was the best and only thing in 
the world to rest on. 

Little Kay was quite blue with cold; but he did not know 
it, for the Snow-Queen had kissed away his feelings, and his 
heart was a lump of ice. He was pulling about some sharp flat 
pieces of ice, which he laid together in all possible ways, puzzling 
out how to make something with them. He fitted them into 
a great many shapes, and shapes the most complicated, for they 
were the “Ice Puzzles of Reason.” In his eyes the figures he 
made were exceedingly beautiful, and of the utmost importance; 
but this was because of the bit of glass which was still in his eye. 
Morever, no 'matter how many wonderful words he could shape 


322 


THROUGH FAIRY HALLS 



them spell — that word was “Eternity.” The Snow-Queen had 
said, “ If you can shape out that word, you shall be your own 
master, and I will give you the whole world and a pair of new 
skates besides.” But he could not puzzle it out. 

“I am going now to the warm lands,” said the Snow-Queen. 
“I must powder my black kettles.” (This was what she called 
the volcanoes, Vesuvius and Etna.) “ It does the lemons and 
grapes good.” Then away she flew, and Kay sat alone in the 
empty halls trying to solve his ice puzzle. There he sat so stiff 
and immovable one might have thought him frozen. 

Suddenly little Gerda stepped through the great portal of 
cutting winds into the palace. She repeated her evening prayer, 
and the winds dropped as if lulled to sleep. Then she entered 
the vast, empty, cold halls. There she beheld Kay, and knew 
him at once. She flung her arms round his neck, held him fast 
and cried, “Kay, sweet little Kay! Have I found you at last?” 

But he sat quite still, stiff and cold. Then little Gerda wept 
hot tears which fell on his breast, and they thawed his heart and 
melted away the bit of the mirror there. He looked at her, 
and she sang: 

“The rose in the valley is blooming so sweet, 

The Child Jesus is there the children to greet.” 

At the sound of the song, Kay burst into tears; he wept so 


323 


MY BOOK HOUSE 


much that the last glass splinter was washed from his eye. Then 
he knew Gerda, and cried, “Gerda, sweet little Gerda! where 
have you been so long? And where have I been?” He looked 
around him. “How cold it is here!” said he. “How empty 
and cold!” And he clung fast to Gerda, who laughed and wept 
for joy. It was such a happy time as Kay warmed into life 
again, that even the bits of ice danced about for joy, and when 
they laid themselves down lo! they formed exactly the letters 
the Snow-Queen had told Kay he must find out if he was to 
become his own master, and have the whole world and a pair 
of new skates. 

Gerda kissed his cheeks, and they grew rosy; she kissed his 
eyes, and they shone like her own; she kissed his hands and 
feet, and he was once more merry and strong. The Snow-Queen 
might come back as soon as she liked; there stood his order of 
release — the word “Eternity” written in letters of ice. 

Kay and* Gerda took each other’s hands, and wandered out 
of the great hall, talking of their grandmother, and of the roses 
on the roof. Wherever they went, the winds were hushed, and 
the sun burst forth. When they reached the bush with the 
red berries, they found the Reindeer waiting. He carried them 
first to the Finn woman; she warmed them in her hot room, 
and told them what they were to do on their journey home; 
and then to the Lapp woman, who made some new clothes for 
them and lent them her sledge. 

When they reached the country where the first green grow- 
ing things peeped forth, they took leave of the Reindeer. “Fare- 
well! farewell!” said they all. Soon they heard the first little 
birds twittering and there came out of the wood toward them, 
riding on a beautiful horse which Gerda knew had once drawn 
her golden chariot, a young damsel in a bright red cap with pis- 
tols at her belt. This was the little Robber-maiden who was 

3 2 4 


THROUGH FAIRY HALLS 

tired of being at home and had set out into the world. She 
and Gerda knew each other at once. It was a joyful meeting. 

“You are a nice fellow!” said she to Kay; “I should like to 
know if you deserve to be run after to the end of the world!” 

But Gerda patted her cheeks, and told her their story. 

“ Schnipp-schnapp-schnurre, it’s all right at last,” said the 
Robber-maiden; and she took the hands of each, and promised 
that if she should ever pass through the town where they lived, 
she would come and visit them. Then away she rode off into 
the wide world. 

Kay and Gerda walked on hand in hand. It was lovely spring 
weather, with flowers and greenery everywhere. Soon they 
recognized the big town where they lived with its tall towers 
in which the bells still rang their merry peals. They went straight 
on and hastened up to their grandmother’s room, where every- 
thing was standing just as they had left it. The clock said 
“Tick! tack!” and the hands moved round. But as they entered, 
they remarked that they were now grown up. The roses hung 
blooming in at the open window; there stood the little children’s 
chairs, and Kay and Gerda sat down on them, still holding each 
other by the hand. All the cold, empty splendor of the Snow- 
Queen’s palace had passed from their memory like a bad dream. 
Grandmother sat in the bright sunshine, and read aloud from 
the Bible: “Unless ye become as little children, ye cannot enter 
the kingdom of heaven.” 

And Kay and Gerda looked in each other’s eyes, and all at 
once they understood the old hymn: — 

“The rose in the valley is blooming so sweet, 

The Child Jesus is there the children to greet.” 

There sat the two grown-up people; grown-up, and yet children 
—children in heart. And it was summer-time, glorious summer! 


3 2 5 


MY BOOK HOUSE 



PRINCE CHERRY 
From the French of 
Madame La Princesse De Beaumont 
j|NCE upon a time there was a King who led so 
gracious and praiseworthy a life that his subjects 
called him the Good King. One day as he was 
out hunting, a little white rabbit, closely pursued 
by the hounds, threw itself into his arms. The King at once 
began to pet and stroke the little creature, and he said: 

“Since you have come to me for protection, I shall see that 
you are well cared for.” 

He then carried the rabbit home to his palace, ordered a pretty 
little house to be made for it, and gave it abundance of fresh 
green things such as rabbits love to eat. 

That very same night, when he had retired alone to his 
chamber, there suddenly appeared to him a beautiful lady. She 
was dressed in neither gold nor silver, but her flowing robes were 
as white as snow, and on her head she wore a crown of white 
roses. The Good King was greatly astonished to behold such a 
sight, for his door was locked and he did not see how anyone 
could have found entrance. But the lady in white explained. 

“I am the Fairy Candide,” she said. “I have heard much of 
your goodness, and as I chanced to be passing through the wood 
while you were hunting, I felt a great desire to know if you were 
truly as good as men say you are. To discover this, I took the 
form of a rabbit and sought protection in your arms, for I was 
sure that he who would be merciful to a dumb beast, would be at 
least as merciful to his fellow men. Had you refused me your 
protection, I should have concluded that you were wicked in your 
heart, in spite of all your show of goodness. But you deserve the 
name by which you are called; you are the Good King. I thank 
you for your kindness and assure you that I will always be your 

326 


THROUGH FAIRY HALLS 


friend. You have only to ask what you most desire and I prom- 
ise you if it be within my power, your wish shall be granted.” 

“Madame,” said the Good King, “I have one well-beloved 
and only son, Prince Cherry. If you have any kindly feeling 
for me, I pray you become, for my sake, the friend and pro- 
tectress of my son.” 

“Willingly,” said the Fairy. “I can make your son the 
Handsomest, the Richest or the most Powerful Prince in the 
world. Which of these gifts do you choose for him?” 

“I choose none of them,” answered the Good King. “I choose 
to have you make him the Best of all Princes. Of wha't use 
would Riches or Beauty or Power be to him if he were wicked 
in his heart? You know very well, madame, that it is Good- 
ness alone which can make him happy.” 

“You have spoken well,” said the Fairy Candide, “but, much 
as I might wish to do so, it is not in my power to make Prince 
Cherry a good man. That is something each one must do for 
himself. All I can promise you is to give him good advice. I 
can point out his faults to him and punish him if he will not 
repent of his wickedness and correct it.” 

The Good King was well content with this promise, and 
shortly afterwards he died, leaving his throne to his dearly be- 
loved son. Two days after this, Prince Cherry was resting in 
his chamber when the Fairy Candide appeared to him just as 
she had to his father. 

“I promised your father,” said she to him, “to be your friend, 
and in order to keep my word to him, I am come to make you 
a present.” She placed on Cherry’s hand a little gold ring, and 
continued, “Take great care of this ring; it is not much to look 
at, but it is in truth more precious than diamonds. Whenever 
you are about to do something wrong, it will prick your finger. 
In this way you will always know when you are doing evil, 

327 


MY BOOK HOUSE 


but if, in spite of the warning, you still continue in the error 
of your ways, then you will lose my friendship altogether.” 

As she finished speaking, she disappeared, leaving Cherry so 
greatly amazed that he almost thought himself dreaming. But 
there in truth was the ring on his finger. For some time he was 
so wise and good that it did not prick him at all. But one day 
he was out hunting and it chanced that he found no game what- 
ever. This put him into an ill humor, and he began to show 
his vexation in his face and manner. At that his ring grew 
tight and uncomfortable, but it did not prick him, so he paid 
no further heed to it. He was returning to his chamber when 
his little dog, Bibi, ran as usual to meet him, and leaped up 
and down before him licking his hand and inviting caresses. 
But the Prince cried out impatiently; 

“Out of my way, sir! I’m in no humor to play with you!” 

The poor little dog who had been accustomed to nothing 
but petting and did not understand a word that his master 
said, kept on leaping before him and began to tug at his clothes 
to win at least his attention. This made Cherry so angry that 
he altogether lost his temper and gave his poor little pet a kick 
that sent him across the room. Instantly the ring pricked him 
as sharply as though it had been a pin. 

“What!” he cried. “My ring pricking me for this! The 
Fairy must be making game of me! Is it a crime to kick an 
animal that was teasing me? Why am I ruler over a mighty 
empire if I may not even kick my own dog?” 

“Nay!” said a voice in answer, “the master of a mighty em- 
pire has the right to do good but not evil. If it were permit- 
ted for the great to ill treat those beneath them, I could at this 
very moment beat you, since a fairy is far more powerful than a 
man. But I shall not beat you; I prefer to leave you to mend 
your ways. You have been guilty of three bad faults today, bad 

328 


THROUGH FAIRY HALLS 


temper, anger, cruelty. See 
that you do better tomorrow.” 

The Prince, humbled and 
ashamed, promised to correct 
his faults and for some time 
kept his word. Still, he had 
always believed that a King 
could do anything he chose, 
and when he found that he, the 
King, had to give up his own 
will, had to learn to govern his 
anger and his temper like the 
meanest churl in his kingdom, 
it made him both vexed and angry. Thus he began to do many 
a wayward, wilful thing. His companions, however, and 
especially a wicked foster-brother were forever praising him and 
telling him a king could do no wrong. Only old Suliman, his 
tutor, who loved him like a son, dared still tell him of his faults 
and urge him to correct them. 

Soon his ring was pricking him very often. Sometimes he 
stopped at its warning, but more often he did not. He in- 
sisted more and more on having his own way and cared not 
how cruelly or unjustly he treated those beneath him. One day, 
angered at Suliman’s gentle but firm remonstrances, he sent the 
good old man into exile, far away from court. After that, the 
ring annoyed him continually. Then he lost all patience with 
its friendly warnings, and wishing to be entirely free to do as 
he chose, he flung it with all his strength onto the dust heap. 
Now he thought he should be the happiest and freest of men. 
So every day he did exactly as he chose and every day he grew 
more and more miserable. 

One day as Cherry was walking in the fields, he saw a young 

329 



MY BOOK HOUSE 

girl watching her sheep and twining garlands by a brook, and 
she was so extremely beautiful, that he resolved at once to make 
her his wife. Being always accustomed to have everything he 
wanted, and thinking that any girl would esteem herself happy 
to be his Queen, he at once told her what he purposed. But to his 
astonishment, Zelia— for that was the maiden’s name— replied: 

“Sire, I am only a shepherdess, still I will not marry you.” 

“What! Is my appearance then displeasing to you?” asked 
the Prince, astounded that any one should refuse him. 

“Not at all,” answered Zelia. “On the contrary, you are 
handsome. But of what use to me would be all your beauty, 
and the riches you might give me? Every day you give way to 
bad temper, and force all about you to db whatever you will. 
With you I should be miserable and so I will not marry you.” 

At this, Prince Cherry fell into violent anger, and bade his 
guards carry Zelia forcibly off to his palace. He then took counsel 
with his foster-brother as to how he should treat the girl. At 
first he confided to him that he had half resolved to correct his 
faults, conquer his wilfulness and try to grow virtuous to please 
Zelia, but this wicked companion answered: 

“What! bow down to the wishes of a little shepherdess! If 
I were in your place, I should compel the girl to obey me. Feed 
her on bread and water until she comes to her senses, and if she 
still holds out, throw her into a dungeon as a warning to your 
other subjects what shall happen to them if they dare disobey 
you. You would be forever disgraced if you let a simple little 
shepherdess conquer you!” 

“But,” said Prince Cherry, “shall I not be disgraced if I harm 
an innocent person? After all, Zelia has committed no crime.” 

“It is a crime not to yield to your wishes,” replied the foster- 
brother. “Rather be unjust, than let anyone suppose he can 
safely go against your will.” 


330 


THROUGH FAIRY HALLS 

What the man said touched Cherry on his weakest point, 
and his good impulses faded. He resolved to go at once to the 
room where Zelia was confined, ask her once more to be his wife, 
and if she still refused, to cast her into a miserable dungeon. 

But on entering the room of the shepherdess, Cherry was 
astounded to find it empty! She was gone! How could she 
have gotten away? He had the key to the room in his pocket! 
Who could have helped her escape? At last the foster-brother 
and others of Prince Cherry’s friends came and told him that 
Suliman had come back to court and been overheard to boast 
that he would set Zelia free. These men still feared the tutor’s 
good influence over Cherry, and planned in this way to be rid 
of him forever. In a fury. Prince Cherry ordered his old friend 
to be loaded with irons and cast into prison. Then he shut him- 
self up in his chamber and raged like a lion. Suddenly, there 
was a sound like thunder, and there stood Candide before him. 

“Prince,” said she sternly, “I promised your father to give 
you good advice and to see that you were punished if you did 
not heed me. My counsel you have despised, my ring you have 
cast away. You still keep the outward appearance of a man, 



331 


MY BOOK HOUSE 


but in your heart you are no better than the beasts you chase — 
a lion in fury, a serpent in vengefulness, a bull in stubborn wil- 
fulness, a wolf in ferocity. Bear henceforth in your outward 
form the likeness of all these animals.” 

Scarcely had Candide spoken when Prince Cherry, to his 
horror, found himself transformed into the monster the fairy 
had decreed. He had a lion’s head, a bull’s body and horns, a 
wolf’s feet and a serpent’s tail. At the same time, he felt him- 
self carried away, and behold! he stood in the midst of a grove 
on the banks of a stream, and before him he saw in the water 
his own ugly form reflected. Then he heard a voice saying: 

“Look at thyself and know that the ugliness of thy body but 
expresses the ugliness of thy soul.” 

Hoping to be rid of the sight of himself, Cherry dashed away 
into the depths of the forest. But scarcely had he gone twenty 
paces when he fell into a pit that had been dug to catch bears. 
In an instant the trappers who had hidden in a tree hard by, were 
upon him. Only too pleased to have found such a strange- 
appearing monster, they loaded him with chains, put him into 
a cage, and dragged him along to the capital of his own kingdom. 

As he drew near the city, he perceived that some great merry- 
making was afoot. The trappers asked what was the cause of 
it all and were informed that the people were rejoicing because 
Prince Cherry, their tyrannical ruler, had been struck by a 
thunderbolt. “His wickedness could no longer be endured,” 
they said, “so heaven has rid the earth of the monster.” Four 
of his courtiers, who had been his chosen companions in evil, had 
wished to divide his kingdom between them, but the people had 
risen up and given the crown to the good old tutor, Suliman. 

All this the monster heard and he groaned with rage, for 
his own subjects whom he had ruled with an iron hand so short a 
time before, stood about, gaped into the cage and made sport of 


332 


THROUGH FAIRY HALLS 

him. When he was dragged into the great square before his own 
palace, he saw Suliman on a splendid throne and heard all the 
people bless him and pray that he might make good the injustice 
they had suffered under Cherry. But the good Suliman answered 
the people that he would only wear the crown as a viceroy. He 
knew that Prince Cherry was not really dead, but would some 
day return, to rule over them, when he was become in truth the 
good man of whom his early years had given such rich promise. 

Suliman’s words touched the poor beast deeply. He now 
felt how true had been the old man’s love for him, and he ceased 
to beat himself against the iron bars of the cage in which the 
hunters were carrying him about. Quiet as a lamb, he allowed 
himself to be carried to a menagerie, and chained up among 
the other wild beasts. Little had he thought when he visited this 
very place as a boy that he would some day be shut up there! 

The time had come at length, when he was ready to admit 
that he had deserved all that had come upon him, and he re- 
solved to begin at once to amend his ways by being obedient 
to the keeper who cared for him. This was no easy task, for the 
man often treated the animals cruelly. One day while the keeper 
was sleeping, a tiger broke loose from his cage and sprang upon 
him. At first Cherry felt a thrill of pleasure at the thought of 
getting even with the man, but almost instantly he refused such 
a thought, and wished earnestly that he were free to help him. 

No sooner had he become conscious of this good wish, than 
presto! the doors of his cage swung open and he rushed to the 
assistance of the keeper. The man had been almost overcome, 
but Cherry leaped upon the tiger and struggled until he had 
killed the beast. Then he flung himself at the feet of the man 
he had saved, longing to be petted. The keeper, in gratitude, 
lifted his hand to stroke him, but as he did so, a voice was heard 
saying, “Good actions are never unrewarded,” and there stood 
before him, not a frightful monster, but a pretty little dog. 


333 


MY BOOK HOUSE 

Cherry, delighted to find himself so changed, leaped up and 
licked the keeper’s hand. Won by his caresses, the man took 
him up into his arms. Soon after this, the keeper carried him 
off to the King of a neighboring kingdom with whom he had 
certain dealings. To him he related the wonderful story of the 
little creature and the Queen at once expressed the wish to have 
the dog for her own. With her he was lodged so elegantly and 
treated so kindly that he would have been well content, could 
he have forgotten Zelia and the fact that he was once a man. 

One day he took the piece of bread which had been given him 
for his breakfast, and being seized with the fancy to eat it in 
the palace garden, went off toward the banks of a stream where 
he often drank. But when he reached the spot, instead of the 
stream, he saw rising up a splendid palace glittering with gold 
and precious gems. Fine as this palace appeared, there wandered 
before it a young woman who seemed to be half famished. She 
was looking about the lovely garden and vainly trying to find 
amidst all its flowery grandeur something that she could eat. 

“Poor thing,” said Cherry to himself, “She is far more in 
need of food than I. I must help her.” 

So the little dog ran up to her and dropped his bread at her 
feet. The young woman picked up the bread and ate it grate- 
fully. Soon she looked quite herself again, and then Cherry 
saw to his great amazement that she was no other than his be- 
loved Zelia. But no sooner had he recognized this amazing 
fact, than four ruffians rushed out of the woods, seized her and 
dragged her off forcibly toward the palace. 

Alas! what could a little dog do to defend his loved one. Oh 
how he wished himself a monster again that he might have power 
to save her. He ran forward and barked at the men and bit 
their heels, but they chased him away with heavy blows and 
dragged Zelia into the palace. Then Cherry lay down sadly 
in front of the door to keep watch. 


334 


through fairy halls 



W i! at L' thought he ’ “ l can see the wickedness of these 
men who have earned Zelia away. And yet did I not do the 
same thmg myself? Did I not think to cast her into prison? 

herand n rTn^° W -f^ Ch wickedness I might have done to 
herandtoothers if heaven s justice had not stopped me in time.” 

^ At that moment he heard the voice in the air repeat again: 

Z actl0ns are never unrewarded,” and Cherry found him- 
self changed into a beautiful little white pigeon. 

he first use he made of his wings was to fly up to the palace 
windows in search of Zelia. He found one window open, entered, 
and flew through the whole rich palace, but nowhere did he see 
S1 £ n of his loved one. She had disappeared entirely. 
Then he made his way out again, full of sorrow, and resolved 
to fly over the whole wide world, if need be, till he found her. 

He flew and he flew. Over many countries he flew, and at 
last he came to the waste and barren desert. Here in a cave, 
sharing with an old hermit his frugal breakfast, he found the 
lovely Zelia. Transported with joy, he flew to her, perched on 


335 


MY BOOK HOUSE 

her shoulder, and expressed by every means in his power the 
joy he felt in seeing her. Zelia, charmed by the gentleness of 
the little bird, and seeing that he was trying to say he devoted 
himself to her, softly stroked him with her hand. 

“Hast thou come to stay with me?” she cried. “Then will 
I love thee always.” 

“What hast thou done, Zelia?” cried the hermit, for even as 
she spoke these words the white pigeon vanished, and there in 
its place, in his true form once more, appeared Prince Cherry. 

Moreover, the form of the hermit began to change. His soiled 
garments became of dazzling whiteness and his long beard and 
withered countenance grew into the shining hair and lovely face 
of the Fairy Candide. 

“Prince,” said she, “you regained your true form when you 
lost the last of the traits that made you beastlike and so won 
Zelia to pledge you her faith. She has always loved your true 
nature and now that it is no more hidden by faults, you shall 
always live happily together.” 

Then Cherry and Zelia, grasping each other by the hand, 
threw themselves at the Fairy’s feet. 

“Rise, my children,” said Candide, “I shall now transport 
you to your kingdom and restore to Cherry the crown of which 
he is at last worthy.” 

She had scarcely spoken the words, when they found them- 
selves in the chamber of Suliman. The old man was delighted 
to find his beloved pupil now a worthy son of the Good King. 
He willingly gave back to him his throne and became the most 
faithful of his subjects. So King Cherry and Queen Zelia reigned 
together many years and the Fairy Candide restored to Cherry 
the valuable ring which he had cast away. But it is said that 
henceforth he governed himself so well, that he was able to govern 
others justly, and the ring never had to prick him severely again. 

336 


THROUGH FAIRY HALLS 

GIGI AND THE MAGIC RING 

An Italian Fairy Tale 
Anne Macdonell 

“ I’U make you rich and happy yet, ’’said 
Gigi (Jeejee) to his mother. “But first I 
must out to the world. Maria, my sister, 
will take care of you while I am gone; and 
remember if you hear nothing of me for a 
time, no new is good news.” 

So off he went; and soon he had to pass through a town. Do 
you think he lost sight of poor folks there? Not a bit of it! 
The very first person he set eyes on was an old woman bending 
under the weight of a heavy oil jar she was carrying. “ I wouldn’t 
let my old grandmother carry that,” said Gigi. “Here!” he 
cried, give it to me. And he took the jar from her, swung it 
upon his shoulder, and bore it up the steep street at the top of 
which she lived, and set it down in her kitchen. 

“Thank you, my fine young man,” said the old woman, “and 
may good luck go with you! Will you sit down and rest a while? 
My place is poor, but you are right welcome.” 

“I have a long way before me,” replied Gigi, “but a seat in 
your chimney comer for a minute or two I will not refuse.” And 
he sat down and played with the dog and cat that lay before the fire. 

“And where are you going, my fine young man?” 

“Into the world,” he answered. 

“A place full of wonders, to be sure, but the road will be a bit 
lonesome for you. Have you no friend to go along with you?” 

“No,” replied Gigi. 

“Then what do you say to taking my dog and cat? They are 
wiser than their kind, and their company might hearten you on 
the road.” 

*From The Italian Fairy Book , published by Frederick A. Stokes Company. 

337 



MY BOOK 


HOUSE 


“That would it now,” said the young man. “Fine company 
they would be! Thank you, good mistress.” 

“Three mouths to feed instead of one, ’tis true,” she went 
on; “and sometimes the tables of the world are poorly spread. 
But should that happen, I have something here will help you.” 
She went to a cupboard and brought out a ring. 

“Take this,” she said, “and when you want anything very 
much, wear it on your finger and turn it about. Then you’ll see 
what you’ll see! Never lose it or give it away, or let it be stolen 
or changed. For then you will be worse off than ever, and the 
ring might get into bad hands.” 

“It is too much,” said Gigi politely. He knew nothing at 
all about jewelry and thought it was probably a poor kind of 
thing; but to accept it seemed like robbing a poor old woman. 
However, she insisted, and when he bade her good-bye the ring 
was in his pocket. Soon he had forgotten all about it. The 
dog and the cat were running along or capering about him in 
wild glee. When they had left the town miles behind them, the 
night clouds began to gather, and Gigi looked out for a place to 
sleep. There were no houses in sight, but there was a thick wood. 

“We can enter here without rapping at any man’s door,” said 
Gigi. So they made the wood their inn and all three snuggled 
down together and tried to go to sleep. But sleep was impossible 
to Gigi. He was too hungry. 

“This would be the best place in all the world,” he said, “if 
only there was something to eat. I wish — oh, I wish a table 
could be set before me now, with a fine supper on it.” His fingers 
had been playing with the ring in his pocket. Now he put it on, 
and he was twisting and turning it about, when all at once his 
wish came true ! It was not too dark but that he could see close by 
him a table spread with a fine cloth, with dishes, forks, knives 
and spoons, and hot, smoking roast duck on it, and delicious 

338 


THROUGH FAIRY HALLS 

, n !^ r ? tlling3 tflan he had ever had for supper before. 
• ,, 0h . h - T he said - The dog and the cat sat up, their noses 
m the air. It wasn’t real, of course. It couldn’t be. He 
touched it. It was real. He smelt it. The dog and cat sniffed 
too and grew excited. He tasted. Oh, now there was no doubt 
about it! Everything was real— and so good! He ate and he 
drank, and the dog and cat ate along with him; and they were 
all three as merry as possible over their banquet in the woods. 

The old woman must have been a fairy,” he said to himself. 
That was a ring indeed she had given him. What should he 
wish for next? He thought of hundreds of things — gold and 
silver, fine clothes for himself and his mother and Maria, horses 
and carriages, guns and swords; but the wishes came tumbling 
on top of each other, head over heels and all fell in a jumbled heap. 

How stupid I am,” said Gigi, “I can’t imagine what I wish 
for most. Well, I’ve often heard that people lose their heads 
when good luck comes their way; but I’d like to keep mine on 
my shoulders.” Then he lay down again on the bed of leaves, 
without wishing for anything, and the dog was at his head and 
the cat at his feet; and they all fell fast asleep. 

He woke next morning early, and was up and astir, with the 
dog and the cat at his heels; and everything about him shone 
and sang. There was nothing so fine in all the world as stepping 
out into the fresh morning world. Was he wishing for horses and 
carriages? He laughed at the idea. Two good legs and a sap- 
ling from the wood where h'e had slept, were better than the King’s 
state coach. Up hill and down dale, through wood and field, by 
stream and meadow he went, easily, cheerily, and his two good 
friends were the best of company. 

At last he came to a fine palace built on the roadside; and 
out of an upper window looked a beautiful maiden, and she 
smiled as Gigi passed below. 


339 


MY BOOK HOUSE 


“Oh, I could look at her all day long!” he said. “But she 
would never speak to a poor boy like me,” he sighed. “Oh, I 
wish — ” ; and as he said the word, he remembered he could have 
whatever he wanted in the world. The ring was on his finger 
on the instant; and he turned it about as he said, “I want a fine 
mansion, but much finer it must be than the one that lovely 
girl is looking out of. And I want it just opposite her’s.” 

In a twinkling he stood, no longer in the open road, but in 
a great palace, more splendid than any he had ever seen; and 
when he looked out at the window, there was a maiden at the 
window opposite, and smiling, quite plainly smiling at him. 
Yet he was still Gigi, in his old clothes with the dust of the road 
on them; and his dog and his cat were there at his heels. Well, 
decidedly it was a ring worth having! He wished for fine clothes. 
They were on his back. For servants. They came at his call. 
For meat and drink. He did not know the names of all the 
fine things that were set before him. 

“Perhaps she would speak to me now,” he said. There 
was no doubt about that. The very next morning her father 
and mother came and called on him, and said they wished to 
make the acquaintance of their new neighbor, who was evidently 
an eminent gentleman. They could hardly take their eyes off 
his fine furniture, his fine clothes, and the gold chain he wore 
about his neck. They flattered him a great deal; and Gigi 
thought they were very amiable people indeed. 

Next day he returned their call, and received a cordial wel- 
come. He was presented to their only daughter, Maliarda, and 
the two young people quickly made friends. Before the day 
was over Gigi had asked her hand in marriage, and her parents, 
who thought he must be at least a great prince, or favored by 
an enchanter, were only too glad to consent. They thought 
Gigi would be very useful to them. 


34 ° 


THROUGH FAIRY HALLS 



Now, on the eve of the wedding-day they all paid a visit to 
Gigi, and while they talked together, Maliarda asked him to 
tell her how it came about that his splendid house had sprung 
up so suddenly. He was the simplest, truthfullest lad in the 
world; and so he told her all about his journeying into the world, 
his meeting with the old woman, her present of the ring, and 
everything that followed. “And do you keep that precious ring 
always on your finger?” she asked. “Always!” he replied. 
“Night and day, waking and sleeping.” 

She whispered the secret to her mother. When they were 
having supper, the mother poured something from a phial into 
Gigi’s wine while his back was turned, and into the plates of his 
dog and cat under the table. It was a sleep-drink she had given 


34i 




MY BOOK HOUSE 

them; and soon after Gigi’s eyes began to close, and the cat and 
dog slept and snored. 

“Your lord is weary after hunting,” said the father to the 
servant who was waiting. “Carry him to that couch; and we 
will take our leave.” Then he called all the servants together 
and said, “Come to my house. I have your master’s orders to 
instruct you in your duties tomorrow.” And they followed him 
out of the palace. But Maliarda stayed behind a moment; 
going up to Gigi, as he lay in a deep sleep, she took the ring from 
his finger and fled. His dog and cat were too drowsy to warn him. 

Once out of the house, she put the ring on her finger, and 
as she turned it, she said, “ I wish that lord Gigi’s palace be moved 
to the highest, steepest, snowiest peak of yonder mountain range!” 
And on the instant the palace was removed to where she had 
decreed. Maliarda ran back to her parents’ house and told what 
had happened. They feigned surprise, and turning to the 
servants, informed them of the vanishing of their master’s 
house, and said, “Your master must have been an evil magician. 
He has played a cruel trick on you. What an escape our daughter 
has had ! ’ ’ Then they gave the servants money and dismissed them. 

When Gigi awoke next morning he was shivering and shaking, 
Where was he? In his own palace, though evidently he had 
not gone to bed. And there were his two friends the dog and 
the cat. But why was he so cold? He got up, walked to the 
window, and looked out, expecting to see the palace of his neigh- 
bors, and perhaps thinking to catch a glimpse of Maliarda. This 
was his wedding day! But all familiar things had vanished, 
and he only saw mountain peaks and snow and sky. What did 
it mean? He rang the bell violently. No one answered. He 
called for his valet, for his butler, for his cook, for his coachman. 
Nobody came. The house was quite still. He searched upstairs 
and downstairs, and found he was alone in his palace save for 


342 


THROUGH FAIRY HALLS 

the dog and cat, and on the top of the highest mountain peak. 
Beneath him could be seen only ice, snow, and terrible precipices! 

Who has done this to me?” he cried. “Have I an enemy? 
Well, what does it matter? I have only to wish myself down 
•and turn my ring.” But his ring was gone! Who was the 
thief? He tried to recall what had happened. He had been 
very sleepy at supper time. He did not remember getting up 
from the table or bidding his guests good-night. And only one 
person knew the value of the ring—! Oh, could his beautiful 
Maliarda be a traitor? 

Impossible to get down the mountain. There was no path; 
and if he tried to make one, he would perish in the snow, or roll 
over into some terrible precipice. And there was not two days’ 
food in all the palace! 

Now the dog and the cat were sorely troubled at their master’s 
sadness, and soon they found out the reason of it. “Have 
patience, dear master,” they said. “ Where a man dare not walk, 
we can. Give us a day, and see if we do not get back your ring.” 

“You are my only hope,” answered Gigi. He fed them well, 
and then opened the door for them. So the dog and cat set off, 
and they slipped, and slid, and crawled, and hung on, and climbed 
and sprang, and helped each other, and never stopped till they 
were down on the green plain. There they came to a river. 
The cat sat on the dog’s back, and the dog swam across. 

At last they came to the palace of the faithless Maliarda. 
By this time it was night, and the household were all in bed 
and asleep. Of course all doors and windows were barred; but 
in the back door was a little cat-hole; and they squeezed through 
one after the other. Then said the cat to the dog, “Stay you 
here and keep guard. I will go upstairs and see what can be 
done.” She slipped up and went to the door of Maliarda’s 
room. But the door was shut, and there was no little hole to 


343 


MY BOOK HOUSE 


creep through. The cat sat down and thought 
and thought; and as she sat there thinking, a 
little mouse ran across the floor. The cat 
smelt her in the dark, put out a paw and 
caught her. What a delicious mouthful she 
would be! But the mouse squeaked out 
piteously, and begged that her life might be 
saved. “Very well,” said the cat; “but in return you must promise 
to gnaw a hole in that door opposite, for I have business inside.” 

The mouse began to gnaw; and she gnawed as hard as she 
could. She gnawed and she gnawed till all her teeth were broken; 
and still the hole was so little she couldn’t get in herself, let 
alone the cat. 

“Have you any young ones?” said the cat to the mouse. 

“Oh yes, I have seven or eight, the finest little family ever 
you saw.” 

“Bring me the littlest, then.” And the mouse ran away, 
and came back with a tiny mite of a mousikin. 

Then said the cat to the little mousikin, “Now be quick 
and clever and you’ll save your mother’s life. Get in through 
that hole; creep into the lady’s bed, and take off the ring from 
her finger. If you can’t get it, bite her finger softly, and she’ll 
take off the ring herself without waking. Then bring it to me.” 

Mousikin ran in, but in a minute she was back again. 

“The lady has no ring on her finger,” she cheeped. 

“Then it is in her mouth. Go again; creep into her bed; 
hit her nose with your tail. She will open her mouth and the 
ring will drop out. Bring it here to me, and you’ll have saved 
your mother’s life.” 

Off ran mousikin, and in another minute she was back with 
the ring. The mice scurried back to their holes. The cat slipped 
down the stairs, made a sign to the dog, and they both crept out 
through the hole in the back door. 



344 


THROUGH FAIRY HALLS 

“Oh, how pleased our master will be,” said the cat. 

But the dog was not in a good humor. He was the bigger, 
and he would have liked to have found the ring and carried it 
back to Gigi himself. So when they came once more to the 
river, he said, “If you give me the ring. I’ll carry you across.” 
But the cat refused. They quarrelled, and the ring fell into 
the river. On the instant a fish snapped at it as if it had been 
a pretty fly. But the dog jumped in, and dived for the fish, 
caught it and got the ring from its mouth. Then he said to the 
cat in a grand manner, “Jump on my back, pussy, and I will 
carry you across.” The cat obeyed but very sulkily; and soon 
they were on the other side. Not a word did they say to each 
other that was not angry and quarrelsome all the way up the moun- 
tain. The sun had risen by the time they reached the top; and 
there was their master waiting for them at the palace door. 

“Have you the ring?” he cried. And the dog dropped it 
at his feet. 

“But ’twas I got it back. By my cleverness, all alone, I 
got it back,” cried the cat. 

“How could you ever have reached the place at all had I 
not carried you over the river?” roared the dog. 

“But ’twas I caught the mouse that gnawed the hole — !” 

And the dog broke in growling, “It was the least you could 
do after the trouble I took.” 



345 


MY BOOK HOUSE 


“Dear friends! dear friends!” said Gigi, “do not quarrel! 
You have both been brave and clever and faithful. You have 
saved my life between you. I love one as much as the other.” 
And with one hand he caressed the dog, and with the other the 
cat, and took them into the palace and fed them both. Then 
they were both the best of friends again, and told their master 
all their adventures by the way. “Now,” said Gigi, “we’ll say 
good-bye to this mountain.” He put the ring on his finger, 
turned it and said, “ I wish my palace to descend to the plain 
and the palace of the faithless Maliarda and her parents to be 
up here among the ice and snow!” 

Next moment both wishes were fulfilled. He was down in 
the green and flowering plain; and the wicked three in their 
palace were up on the freezing mountain-top. 

Did they ever get down any more? Well, I have heard that 
Gigi had a little mercy on them after some days of anger. He 
turned his ring, and wished the faithless three half-way down, 
whence they could scramble to the level, where trees grew and 
where there were some scattered huts. But their palace was 
left up on the top; and much good did it do them there! He 
never saw them again. 

As for Gigi, he soon tired of his fine palace; and when a year 
and a day had passed from the time he left home, he said to 
his trusty companions, 

“Come, my friends, we’ll take to the road again. I have a 
longing to see my mother and my sister Maria.” So he turned 
back to his own village. On his way he passed through the 
town where he had met the old woman who had given him the 
ring, but he could not find her nor hear any news of her. So he 
hurried on home. 

His mother and sister hardly knew him again. That fine 
young man with the grand clothes their Gigi! Not possible! 

346 


THROUGH FAIRY HALLS 

“Have you found fortune already, my son?” 

“ I carry it on my finger.” He laughed, and held out the ring. 

Very pretty,” said his mother. “But instead of chattering 
here I should be getting ready your dinner. And nothing you 
like in the house! Make haste, Maria!” 

Don t trouble,” said Gigi. “See what a fine cook I have 
become!” And there in the middle of the kitchen stood a table 
loaded with good things to eat — macaroni and roast goose, and 
grapes and oranges and wine. 

“Oh-h-h-h!” cried the two women. 

“Sit down and eat,” said the young man, “and I’ll tell you 
all my adventures.” 

They sat down; he loaded their plates; but they could hardly 
swallow a mouthful for their wonder at all Gigi told them. When 
he came to the tale of Maliarda’s deceit, they wept and said he 
was much better at home with them. 

“So I think,” replied Gigi; “and I am not sure if the old wo- 
man’s best gift to me be not my good friends here under the table.” 

“To be sure!” said his mother. “What should a strong 
hearty young fellow like you do with an enchanted ring? Fine 
mischief it has got you into already! Give it to me, and I’ll 
hide it away in my wedding-chest among the best sheets and 
the winter coverlets. With the money you have on you, you 
can set up for yourself.” 

“That is so,” he replied, “And if the old wife were to pass 
by one day, who knows but I might give her the ring back again.” 

Is the ring still in the wedding-chest? Does Gigi ever take 
it out, put it on his finger and wish? I do not know. When I 
have passed his way I have seen him ploughing with a fine team 
of fat oxen, and singing the while, or in the woods with his good 
friends the cat and dog, for they are still alive and hearty. He 
has not yet gone back to live in a palace; but all the neighbors 
envy his mother her good son Gigi. 


347 


MY BOOK HOUSE 



Once upon a time there lived in Italy two brothers; the elder, 
named Cianne, was as rich as a lord; and the younger brother, 
called Lise, was so poor that he had barely enough upon which 
to live. But Cianne, although rich in fortune, was poor in 
spirit, for he would not give his brother a lira, even if it were 
to save his life. So poor Lise set out to wander over the world 
to seek his fortune. He wandered on and on until one wet, 
cold night he came to an inn, where he found twelve youths 
seated around a fire. Now, when they saw poor Lise shiver- 
ing and shaking with the cold, caused not only from the severe 
season but because he wore such ragged clothes, they felt sorry 
and said, “Pray draw up closer to the fire and sit with us until 
you are warm.” 

“Thank you kindly, that I will,” said Lise, and he began 
to hold out his hands toward the bright blaze. 

While he was getting warm, one of the young men watched 
him closely. This young man looked so sad and cross that 
one might almost fear him, and suddenly he growled out at Lise, 
“Well, countryman, what do you think of this weather?” 

“What do I think of it?” replied Lise, “I think that each 
month of the year must perform its duty, but we who do not 
wish to give praise to heaven and who always want everything 
our own way do not look deeply enough into things, whether 
what comes into our fancy is good or evil, useful or hurtful. So 
in Winter, when it rains and snows, we want the sun of Summer, 

★From Italian Fairy Tales. Used by the courteous permission of the author and the 
publishers, Daughaday & .Co. 

348 



THROUGH FAIRY HALLS 

and in August we grumble with the heat and long for the rain. 
Now, if our wishes could come true the seasons would be turned 
topsy-turvy, the seed sown would be lost, all the crops would 
be destroyed, men would faint with weakness, and all nature 
would be upside down and go head over heels. Therefore, let 
us leave heaven to its course and each month to its own duty.” 

. “ You are a wise young man; you speak like Solomon,” 
said the youth; “but you can not deny that this month of 
March is ill-natured to send all this frost and rain, snow and 
hail, wind and storm, fogs and tempests, and all other troubles 
which make one’s life a burden.” 

“Why, you are not fair to the poor month,” answered Lise. 
“ You tell only of the ills and do not speak of the benefits March 
yields to us, for by bringing forward the Spring it starts all life 
growing, helps along the cause with the sun, and leads him to 
the house of rain.” 

The youth was greatly pleased when he heard what Lise 
said, and his face lost the sad look and became bright with hap- 
piness, for you must know this youth was March himself, who 
had arrived at that inn with his eleven brothers, and he was ques- 
tioning Lise only to find whether he would speak good or evil 
of a month so sad that the shepherds do not like to mention 
it. He was so grateful to Lise for trying to see the good rather 
than the evil, that to reward him for his kindness he gave Lise 
a beautiful little casket, saying: “Take this and if you want 
anything only ask for it, and, opening this box, you will see it 
before you.” 

“Thank you, thank you,” said Lise, and, putting the box 
under his head for a pillow, he went to sleep. 

The next morning early, Lise took leave of the youth and 
set out on his way. It was windy and snowy, and poor Lise 
felt the cold again. “How nice it would be to travel in a lit- 


349 


MY BOOK HOUSE 


ter,” he said to himself, and then he suddenly thought of his 
magic casket, so he opened it and said: “I wish I had a litter, 
lined with cloth, and with a little fire inside, that I might travel 
warm and comfortable through the snow.” 

No sooner said than done, for instantly there appeared a 
litter with bearers. “Carry me home,” Lise commanded, and 
in great comfort they carried him on his homeward journey. 
When he was hungry, Lise opened the little box and said: “I 
wish for something to eat,” and instantly there appeared a feast 
fit for a king. 

One evening, when they came to a wood, Lise opened his 
magic casket and' said: “I should like to rest here all night, 
where this river makes such a merry music on the stones.” Then 
there appeared a tent with a couch covered with a soft mattress, 
warm blankets, and silken robes, and when he asked for food, 
another tent appeared with a table and sideboard filled with 
gold and silver dishes, containing all the choicest food one could 
imagine. After he had eaten, he lay down to sleep, and in the 
morning when he awoke, he opened his box and said; “I wish 
to have a "handsome dress, for today I will see my brother.” 
No sooner said than done; immediately there appeared a dress 
of black velvet with edging of red and with lace collar and cuffs 
and an embroidered mantle of cloth of gold. So when Lise 
was dressed in his royal robes he looked quite like a prince. 

When Cianne saw his poor brother arrive in a litter, dressed 
in all this splendor, he could scarcely believe his eyes. 

“How did it happen? Where did you get these sudden 
riches?” he asked, and Lise told him of the youths at the inn 
and he showed him the wonderful present they had given him, 
but*he did not tell Cianne the conversation he had with the sad- 
faced youth. 

Cianne could hardly wait to visit the inn, but he told his 
35o 


THROUGH FAIRY HALLS 

brother to rest at his home, for he must be tired after his long 
journey. Then he started off post haste and soon he arrived 
at the inn, where, finding the twelve youths, he began to chat 
with them. 

.<’a^ 0W ’j w ^ en t ^ ie sac * Youth asked him the same question. 
What do you think of this month of March?” Cianne made 
up an awful face and said; “Confound the miserable month! 
It is the enemy of the shepherds, it stirs up all ill humors, and 
brings sickness to our bodies. It is such a hateful month that 
it would be a blessing to the earth and the greatest gain to men 
if it could be dropped from the year.” 

March, who heard himself thus slandered, controlled his 
anger, though his face clouded with wrath. He waited, until 
morning and then as Cianne was about to depart, he gave him 
a fine whip, saying: “Whenever you wish for anything say: 
‘Whip, give me a hundred,’ and you will receive your reward.” 

“Thank you, thank you,” said Cianne, and he went home 
in haste. “This is a magic whip, I am sure,” he said to him- 
self, “and now it will give me gold.” 

As soon as he reached his own home he went into a secret 
chamber planning to hide all his money, and he said, “Whip, 
whip, give me a hundred! Whereupon the whip gave him 
more than he bargained for on his legs, his back and his face, 
until he screamed with pain, so that all in the house heard him! 
Lise came running to help Cianne, but he found he could not 
stop the magic whip until he opened his magic box and com- 
manded the whip to stand still. 

“How did this happen?” asked Lise, and Cianne told him 
the whole story. “You well deserve the punishment,” replied 
Lise, “for you have no one but yourself to blame. You have 
always been greedy for gold, and little have you cared how you 
attained your wealth. You should bridle your tongue, for you 

35i 


MY BOOK HOUSE 



never can know whom you may hurt by your unpleasant word. 
Let this whipping be a lesson to you to speak well of every one 
in the future, for good words are a merchandise that cost noth- 
ing and usually bring profit that is not expected.” 

Then Lise put his arm about Cianne and comforted him. 
“Never mind, brother, do not seek for more wealth than heaven 
has given you. There is enough in my casket for us both to 
share and we will forget the past and begin again.” 

When Cianne heard the offer of his generous brother, he 
cried out: “O, my brother, forgive me, for my past unkindness 
to you. I truly deserve the gift March gave me, but I will 
begin again, as you say, and try never to be unkind.” 

So the two brothers lived together for the rest of their days 


352 


THROUGH FAIRY HALLS 

and shared their good fortune, and from that time Cianne spoke 
well of everybody and .everything, and he saw no evil, for his 
heart was filled with love. 



MARCH 

William Cullen Bryant 

The stormy March is come at last, 

With wind, and cloud, and changing skies; 

I hear the rushing of the blast 
That through the snowy valley flies. 

Oh! passing few are they who speak, 

Wild, stormy month, in praise of thee; 

Yet though thy winds are loud and bleak, 
Thou art a welcome month to me. 

For thou to northern lands, again 
The glad and glorious sun dost bring; 

And thou hast joined the gentle train 
And wear’st the gentle name of Spring. 

Then sing aloud the gushing rills 
In joy that they again are free. 

And, brightly leaping down the hills, 

Renew their journey to the sea. 

Thou bring’st the hope of those calm skies, 
And that soft time of sunny showers, 

When the wide bloom, on earth that lies, 
Seems of a brighter world than ours. 


353 


MY BOOK HOUSE 

COLUMBINE AND HER PLAYFELLOWS OF THE 
ITALIAN PANTOMINE 

Heigho! Heigho for the holiday lime. 

And the merry freaks of the pantomime! 

From the very earliest days, one of the favorite forms of 
entertainment in many countries of the world has been the panto- 
mine or dumb show. In it the actors bring out the action of the 
play by means of their motions only, without speaking any words. 
This dumb show is accompanied by music, dancing, and singing, 
and particularly at holiday times has it always drawn a merry 
throng, to add to the joy of the season. In Italy certain char- 
acters became regular parts of every pantomine and from Italy 
they spread to England, Europe and the rest of the world. 
Though the old Mother Goose Rhymes and Fairy Tales were 
often the subjects of the pantomines, interwoven with all these 
and dancing through them all, Columbine, Pierrot and Harle- 
quin gaily chased each other. The stories about these merry- 
makers are somewhat different in each play that is given, but 
in general their characters remain very much the same. 

Once upon a time there stood on one comer of the market 
place in a little village of Italy, a small pink stucco house, on the 
lower floor of which was a shop, bursting over with fruit and 
fresh vegetables. Here lived an old merchant named Pantaloon 
and his beautiful daughter, Columbine. Columbine was a merry 
creature, always dancing, always skipping, her little toes twink- 
ling, her gauzy skirts rippling! For sheer joy she danced, like 
a sunbeam, here, there and everywhere. 

Haste thee. Nymph and bring with thee* 

Jest and youthful Jollity. 

Come and trip it, as you go, 

On the light fantastic toe. 

♦From Milton’s L’ Allegro. 

354 


THROUGH FAIRY HALLS 

But Pantaloon was grave and sober as an owl. Day after 
day he sat in a room filled with books, directly over the shop, 
and pored over some monstrous volume, while Columbine served 
their customers. 

Dismal, doleful Pantaloon, ^ 

Downcast eyes and shuffle-shoon, 

Up to ears in volumes old , 

Buried deep in must and mould. 

Whenever he saw Columbine dancing, he shook his great 
cane at her, and bade her be prim and sedate. But Columbine 
did not like to stay always close to the shop and sell cabbages 
and turnips, onions and garlic. Sometimes she tripped out into 
the sunny meadows to go a-maying among kindly shepherd folk 
who tended their snow white sheep. 

S^J 

While the ploughman, near at hand* 

Whistles o'er the furrowed land, 

And the milkmaid singeth blithe, 

| And the mower whets his scythe, 

And every shepherd tells his tale 
Under the hawthorn in the dale. 




Columbine returned blithely from such hey-days in the 
meadows, her arms filled with flowers, but always Pantaloon 


♦From Milton’s L’ Allegro. 

355 


MY BOOK HOUSE 

greeted her angrily, tossed her flowers out of the window, threat- 
ened her with his cane and set her to work again. For her enter- 
tainment when work was over, he sent his servant to bring her 
upstairs, then he set her down primly before him and preached 
to her with a huge opened book on his knees. 

Now Pantaloon’s servant was the Clown. 

Simple Simon, silly goose. 

Blockhead, booby, most obtuse! 

Whatever Pantaloon did, the Clown would mimic. While 
Pantaloon preached to Columbine, the Clown sat humped over a 
monstrous book and preached to a little white pig. 

One day Pantaloon, quite beside himself with Columbine’s 
frisking, sent the Clown to their young neighbor, Pierrot, to bid 
him come and mind Columbine, while Columbine minded the shop. 
To bottle up her spirits. 

Put snuffers on her joy, 

To bridle, bit, and curb her, 

Bring here that pensive boy. 

So the Clown hitched his pig to a little cart and went riding 
off to fetch Pierrot. 

Now Pierrot was a lovable fellow who had often brought 
nosegays to Columbine, and he was overjoyed to come and be 
her companion at Pantaloon’s request. But he was quiet and 
thoughtful, and his garments were white with spots of black, 
like the moonlight gleam among shadows. Columbine had been 
longing for a gay play-fellow, but Pierrot sang to her, to the 
accompaniment of his lute, of the soft, tender beauty of moon- 
light, of the restful peace of cool shadows, the quiet calm of still 
waters, and the song of the nightingale. 

Sweet bird, that shunn’st the noise of folly* 

Most musical, most melancholy! 

Now Columbine would have nothing to do with shadows or 

*From Milton’s II Penseroso. 

356 



THROUGH FAIRY HALLS 



quiet. She would twinkle and beam like the sunbeam and dance 
everywhere. So Columbine teased poor Pierrot and he found 
no way to please her. 

One day while they tended the shop, and Pantaloon sat in 
357 




MY BOOK HOUSE 


the room above with his nose in some musty old tome, Columbine 
hid from Pierrot. He chased her here and there, in and out, in and 
out, just as the shadows of leaves play hide-and-seek with the 
sunbeams. Then she slipped away altogether, left him alone 
to sell onions and whisked away to the woodland. 

As she wandered through a beautiful grove of beech trees, 
she threw back her head and lifted her arms and cried out for a 
play-fellow. Suddenly the wind came frolicking by, flipped 
her gauze skirts, tweaked her hair, and snatched off a rose from 
her bosom. Then it ducked away, swirled around a great tree 
and bang! there bounced out on the other side a jolly gay fellow 
in scarlet and yellow, who leaped up high in the air, turned hand- 
springs, and bounced like a rubber ball. For a moment Colum- 
bine held back and knew not what to think, but Harlequin seized 
her by the hand and then Heigho! for a frolic! 

Quips and Cranks and wanton Wiles* 

Nods and Becks and wreathed Smiles, 

Sport that wrinkled Care derides, 

And Laughter, holding both his sides! 

As Columbine frolicked with Harlequin, the Clown came 
through the woods, sent out by the angry Pantaloon, to look for 
the missing Columbine. Master Clown looked in the most 
impossible places, he bent from his hips with his knees very stiff, 
and peeped under tiny flowers where 


the trees, and twisted himself into? 
bowknots as he peered everywhere 
about. What with looking where 
they could not have been, and never 
where they might have been, he 


not even a grasshopper could have 
hid, he stretched up his neck like a 


giraffe’s, to look into bird’s nests in 



★From Milton’s L’ Allegro. 


THROUGH FAIRY HALLS 

backed into Columbine and Harlequin and stumbled straight over 
them. Then he stood on his head, shook his feet in their faces, and 
went running off on his hands to tell his tale to his master. 

Soon, sputtering and angry, shaking his head and his fists, and 
threatening with his cane, along through the woods came Pantaloon. 
Leading the way before him, importantly swaggered the Clown. 

Columbine and Harlequin were still dancing, laughing, chas- 
ing, but they spied the two coming a long way off, and hid behind 
a tree. When Pantaloon and the Clown were almost upon them, 
booh! out popped Harlequin, over bowled the two in astonish- 
ment, and off danced Harlequin and Columbine. Pantaloon 
and the Clown picked themselves up and gave chase, but just 
as they were hot on the heels of the pair, the Clown tripped over a 
straw and fell, while his master went sprawling on top of him. 
The chase was long and merry. Pantaloon and the Clown caught 
a straying donkey and flung themselves both on his back, but 
the donkey balked, pitched Pantaloon into a rain-barrel and the 
Clown into a tub of whitewash. So Harlequin and Columbine 
soon out-distanced their pursuers. 

Meantime, Pierrot, left alone, set out sorrowfully to find his 
beloved Columbine, and he sang sad songs, as he went, to his 
lute. At last he came to a country fair, where the shepherd folk 
were gathered with their sheep. Some had joined in quaint 
folk dances, while others crowded about the place where tumblers 
were giving a show. 

— many a youth and many a maid * 

Dancing in the chequered shade, 

And young and old come forth to play 
On a sunshine holiday. 

In the midst of the crowd, Pierrot spied Columbine and 
Harlequin. From a shepherd he purchased a tiny white lamb, 
with a silver bell on a little blue ribbon about its neck. 

★From Milton’s L’ Allegro. 

359 


MY BOOK HOUSE 


Humbly he offered the gift to Colum- 
bine. Columbine took it and kissed it, 
but Harlequin began at once to play 
mischievous pranks on Pierrot. He 
flipped his clothes, he tweaked off his 
cap, he pulled his hair, he startled him 
with strange and sudden dartings. And 
Columbine joined in all the laughter at 
Pierrot’s expense. She put the little 
lamb down on the ground as she 
watched and let it wander away. At last, 
seeing how much she seemed to prefer the 
madcap Harlequin, Pierrot sadly left her. 

That evening Columbine came back to Pantaloon’s shop, 
but as days went by, she had less and less time for Pierrot. 
Harlequin was always popping in at the window. Crash bang! 
and leading her off for a frolic. So there came a day when Pierrot 
could endure it no more. He packed all his belongings into a 
bundle, tied the bundle to the end of a stick, sang one last fare- 
well song to his lute, below Columbine’s empty balcony, and 
set out into the world alone, with the stick slung over his shoulder. 

At first, when Columbine found he was gone, she tossed her 
head and pretended that she did not care at all. She still raced 
off with Harlequin, while Pantaloon and the Clown gave chase 
and were outwitted at every turn by the waggish tricks of Harle- 
quin. But at last, as month after month passed by. Columbine 
began to miss Pierrot sadly. She grew tired of always frolicking. 
Without the thoughtful quiet of Pierrot to rest in, she could not 
enjoy the bounding merriment of Harlequin. In the cool and 
peaceful shadows, by still waters, in the tender moonlight, she 
thought of the comrade who was gone and longed to call him 
home. Even Harlequin could not now make her glad. Her 

360 



THROUGH FAIRY HALLS 

feet began to stop twinkling and she left off skipping and dancing. 
Then Pantaloon nodded his head, well content. He thought he 
had quenched the bubbling spring of her joy and frozen her up 
at last into the stiff little creature he wanted. 

Gradually there came to the village the fame of a certain poet, 
who wrote most beautiful ballads and plays, and of whom all 
Italy spoke. One market day, when the village square was filled 
with peasant folk, a stage was set up in one comer of the market 
place. A play by the famous poet was to be given there. Harle- 
quin came and begged Columbine to go. To please him, she left 
the shop and sadly joined the crowd. 

The curtains parted and the play began. There appeared 
on the stage — how strange ! a maiden who was the image of Colum- 
bine, and a youth like Harlequin. Then, yes! — there was a 
Pierrot too. And the play told how Pierrot had loved Columbine, 
and Columbine had deserted him, to play all day with Harlequin. 
The Columbine and Harlequin were only an actor and actress, 
but when Pierrot began to sing — ah! Columbine knew that was 



361 


MY BOOK HOUSE 


Pierrot himself. And he sang of the loneliness of the world and 
the sadness ever in his heart, and the longing, longing for Colum- 
bine — sang till Columbine began to weep and the shepherds 
about were moved to tears. Pierrot himself had written the play. 
Pierrot, himself was the poet. 

When it was over and all the people applauded, she held 
out her hands to Pierrot. Pierrot had seen her from the first 
and he sprang down at once to her side. Then Columbine asked 
his forgiveness. In her joy at seeing him again, she forgot all 
about Harlequin and, hand in hand with Pierrot, wandered off 
into the meadows. For a moment Harlequin hung his head 
and collapsed like a sail when the wind dies down, but in another 
instant, he had flipped the skirts of a shepherd maid and was off 
at his boisterous pranks as before. 

At evening Pierrot and Columbine came back to Pantaloon’s 
shop with their arms full of flowers. They turned out all the 
onions and cabbages, turnips and garlic, and changed the place 
into a flower shop. Pantaloon shook his head— he could not 
understand such doings— but when he knew that Columbine 
had chosen Pierrot to be her companion forever, he was well 
content. Up in his room, buried deep in books, he preached 
no more to Columbine, but to the clown and his little white pig. 
So Columbine kept the shop while Pierrot wrote his poems, and 
every day her bubbling brightness seemed more joyous still for 
the quiet and calm repose of Pierrot. As to Harlequin, he often 
popped in at the window Crash bang! to lead them away for a 
frolic. And then — 

With a hey, and a ho, and a hey nony no, 

Racing and chasing, away they go! 


362 


THROUGH FAIRY HALLS 




THE SIX SWANS gST^S 

A German Fairy Tale 
Once upon a time a King went a-hunting in a great wood, and he 
pursued a wild boar so eagerly that none of his people could 
follow him. Never once did he stop to look about him until 
nightfall, and then he found he had quite lost his way. As he 
was searching for a path, he suddenly saw before him an ugly 
old woman, and she was a witch, though the King did not know it. 

“Good dame,” said the King, “can you show me the way out 
of the wood?” 


“Oh, yes, my lord King,” she answered “but on one condition, 
and if you do not fulfill it, you shall never get home again.” 

“What is the condition?” asked the King. 

“I have a daughter,” said the old dame, “as fair as any in the 
world, and if you will promise to make her your Queen, then 
and then only will I lead you safely out of the forest.” 

Well, the King was in such a fix, he knew not what else to do, 
so he consented, and the old witch led him straight off to her hut. 
There sat her daughter by the fire, but though she was very 
beautiful, she did not please the King. He could not even look 
at her without an inward shudder. Nevertheless, as he had 
promised, he took her before him on liis horse, the old woman 
showed him the way, and soon he was safely back in his castle. 

Now the King had been married before and already had 
seven beautiful children whom he loved better than all the world, 
but he knew well enough that this strange new Queen would 
be only too likely to do them some mischief; so he took them 
secretly and hid them away in a lonely castle deep in the midst 
of a wood. The road to this place was so hard to find, that the 
King himself would never have found it, had it not been for a 
certain clew of yam that unrolled itself when he threw it down 
before him and showed him the way through the forest. 


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Now the King went so often to see his dear children that the 
Queen was displeased at his absence. She grew curious and 
wanted to know why he so often went out alone. So she gave 
herself no rest until she discovered the secret of the clew. Then 
she made some little white shirts and sewed in each one a charm 
she had learned from her mother, and when the King next rode 
a-hunting, she took the little shirts and the ball of yam and went 
off into the wood. Sure enough, the yam showed her the way, 
and there she came to the hidden castle. When the children saw 
some one in the distance coming toward them, they thought it 
was their dear father and ran, jumping for joy, to meet him. 
But the wicked witch threw over each as he drew near, one of the 
little shirts, and immediately they were no longer youths, but 
changed into swans, that mounted up into the air and flew, soaring 
over the tree-tops. Then the Queen went home laughing 
hideously to think she was rid of the troublesome children. 

But it happened that the little maid had not run out with 
her brothers, so the Queen knew nothing at all about her. She 
had seen what had happened from the window, and all day long 
she went sorrowfully about, picking up the feathers that had 
dropped from her brothers’ wings in the courtyard. But when 
night came on, she said to herself, “I must stay here no longer. 
I shall go and seek for my brothers.” 

So she fled away farther still into the wood. She went on 
all that night and the next day until she could go no longer for 
weariness. At last she saw a rude hut before her. In she went 
and found there a room with six little beds, and six chairs, and 
six plates and knives on the table. So she guessed that this 
might be the place where her brothers were staying, and she 
crept under one of the beds to wait and see what would happen. 

When it was near the time of sun-setting, she heard a rustling 
sound and behold! six handsome white swans came flying in at 

364 


THROUGH FAIRY HALLS 

the window. They alighted on the ground and blew at one 
another until they had blown all their feathers off; then they 
stripped off their swan-skins as though they had been shirts. 
The maiden knew them at once for her brothers and crept gladly 
from under the bed. The brothers, too, were overjoyed to see 
their sister, but even as they embraced her, they cried: 

“Alas! we can only stay with you one little quarter of an hour. 
For that length of time every evening we keep our human shapes, 
but after that we are changed again into swans.” 

“Can nothing be done to free you?” cried their sister weeping. 
“Oh, no!” they replied. “The work would be too hard for 
you. For six whole years you would be obliged never to speak 
or laugh, and you would have, during that time, to spin, weave 



365 


MY BOOK HOUSE 

and make six shirts out of aster-down. If you were to let fall a 
single word before the work was ended, all would be lost.” 

Just as the brothers finished speaking, the quarter of an hour 
came to an end, they changed into swans and flew out of the 
window. At this, the maiden made up her mind on the spot 
to set her brothers free, no matter what it might cost her. So 
she went out into the wood and began gathering down from the 
asters. Every day she spent in the house of her brothers; she 
kept the beds white and clean; she fetched the wood and the 
vegetables; she watched the pot on the fire and always had 
supper ready when they came home. For a quarter of an hour 
each evening they would be her brothers, then off they must 
fly again as white swans. But, though she made them so com- 
fortable, the Princess never spoke a word to them or laughed 
one little laugh. By moonlight and starlight she was always 
out gathering down. No matter how lonely seemed the dark 
forest, nor how black the shadows, she was always gathering down. 

When she had been going on like this for a long, long time, 
it happened that the King of that country went a-hunting in the 
wood. He got separated from his companions and was wan- 
dering about at nightfall all alone, when whom should he see sit- 
ting up in a tree and carding her down, but the beautiful maiden. 

“Who art thou?” asked the King, struck with her loveliness. 

She answered him not a word. 

“What art thou doing up in that tree?” 

She answered him not a word. He spoke to her in all the 
languages he knew, but still she answered him never a word. 
The King, however, felt a very great love for her rise in his breast, 
so he climbed the tree, brought her down, cast his mantle about 
her, set her up on the horse before him, and started off toward 
the castle. But the maiden wrung her hands and pointed back 
to her bags full of aster-down. So the King, seeing she wished 

366 


through fairy halls 

to have them with her, returned and got them, put them also 
up on his horse and galloped away once more. 

When they reached the castle, the King caused the maiden 
to be clad in rich garments, and her beauty shone as bright as 
the morning, but still not a single word would she utter. Her 
modesty and gentleness so pleased the King that he chose her for 
his wife and would have no other in all the world. Accordingly, 
they were married. But it happened that there dwelt with the 
King as head of his houselhold, a wicked old dame, who wanted 
no handsome new queen in the castle to take the management 
out of her hands, so she began at once to speak ill of her. 

“Who knows where the maid can have come from?’’ she said, 
“and dumb as a door-post, too! She is probably some beggar 
maid who has stolen the heart of the King!” 

To all this evil-speakmg the Queen made no answer what- 
ever. No matter how cruel or untrue the words of the old 
woman were, she never once opened her lips. Sometimes the 
King begged her to speak with loving words and endearments, 
but, though her heart longed to reply, she answered never a 
word. Always she was spinning and weaving her aster-down, 
cutting and making her shirts. 

Year after year went by, till at last the old woman began to 
whisper and tell abroad that the sweet young queen was a witch 
who had cast a spell over the King. Now the people could not 
understand the silent Queen who was always at work and would 
speak no word, nor stop to join in their festivities, so at last, 
aroused by the wicked old dame, they went to the King in a 
mass, proclaimed her a witch and demanded that she be burnt 
at the stake. Then the King was so sad that there was no end 
to his sadness, for he still loved his wife very dearly, but the 
queen never spoke a word to save herself, so the people seized 
her out of the castle and dragged her off to the stake. 

367 


MY BOOK HOUSE 



Now when all this happened, it was the very last day of the 
six years during which she had neither spoken nor laughed in order 
to free her brothers. The six shirts were ready, all except one 
that wanted a sleeve. When she was dragged to the stake, the 
Queen carried the six shirts on her arm, but just as she mounted 
the pile of fagots, and the fire was about to be kindled, she cried 
out aloud, for there, through the air flying toward her, came 
six beautiful snow-white swans. With rushing wings they flew 
and dropped in a circle about her. Quickly she threw the shirts 
over their heads. Then off dropped their swan skins and her 
brothers stood safe and sound before her. Only, as one shirt 
wanted the left sleeve, her youngest brother had a swan’s wing 
instead of a left arm. While the King looked on in astonishment, 
the brothers and sister embraced and kissed each other. Then 
the Queen went up to the King and said: 

“Dearest husband, now I may dare to speak and tell you I 
am innocent!” So she told all her tale and the King was over- 
joyed, while the people fell at her feet and begged her forgiveness. 
As to the old dame, when the Queen sent for her dearly loved 
father to visit her at her court, it soon appeared that she was 
the very same wicked old witch who had forced the Queen’s 
father to marry her daughter, and taught the daughter the 
charm by means of which she had turned the young princes 
into swans, so she and her daughter were both cast on the fire 
and that was the end of the witches. But the King and Queen 
lived many years in great peace and joy with their father and 
six good brothers. 


368 



THROUGH FAIRY HALLS 



THE TWO BAD BARGAINS 
A Servian Tale 

In days gone by, there lived a couple who had one only son 
named Vladimir. Now Vladimir was a lad both strong and of 
good courage, yet of so compassionate a heart that if he saw but a 
dog in trouble, nothing would do but he must stop and help it. 
After his schooling was finished, Vladimir’s father gave him a ship 
freighted with various sorts of merchandise and bade him go 
trading about the world and grow rich. Vladimir put to sea at 
once, in high spirits and good hope, his head full of visions of 
mighty fortunes to win; but he was not gone many days from port 
when he met a vessel swarming with savage Turks, from whence 
he heard noise of much weeping and wailing. Boldly Vladimir 
drew alongside the Turkish vessel and demanded, “Why comes 
there such noise of weeping from out your hold?” 

The Turkish sailors made 'answer with ugly grins, “We have 
captured a ship load of slaves to sell in the great slave market 
of Stamboul. It is those who are chained that are weeping.” 

Then Vladimir must needs cry out, “How much are they 
worth — your ship load of slaves?” and the Captain of the slave 
ship answered, “As much as the value of all your lading!” 

369 




MY BOOK HOUSE 

Now Vladimir saw trembling before him all his visions of 
fortune, if he traded his cargo to good advantage, yet the weeping 
of those unhappy slaves went tugging at his heart strings, and 
tugging, and tugging, till at last he cried out, “I will trade all 
my merchandise for those poor creatures.” 

The Captain agreed, you may be sure, and the exchange 
was made on the spot. Vladimir gave up all his cargo and took 
the slaves instead. As they came aboard and passed him by, 
he asked each one whence he came and told him he was free 
to go home. One and all, they fell with great joy at his feet. 
Only at the very last, there came before him an old woman who 
held close to her side a pale and beautiful maiden. This old 
woman still continued to weep. 

“For,” said she, “our home is so far and so far away 
that we can never get back again. This maid is sole daughter 
to a mighty king, and I am her nurse. One day we wandered 
in the garden too far from the palace, and the Turks fell upon 
us and dragged us off prisoners. Since then we have sailed both 
weeks and months. We shall never find our way back. Pray 
let us remain with you.” 

So Vladimir set the other slaves ashore, but he felt great pity 
for the beautiful maiden, and seeing she had no place whatever 
to go, he married her and set off for home. When he arrived 
with an empty vessel and naught but a penniless maid and a poor 
old woman to show for his cargo, his father was furiously angry. 

“My foolish son!” he cried. “What have you done? Made 
away with a rich and valuable cargo and brought home two 
empty mouths to feed!” Then he closed to him the door of his 
house, bade him take his young bride and go about his business. 

So Vladimir and Helena and the good nurse lived in great 
poverty, but the two young people so dearly loved each other, 
that even in their poor little hut with naught but hard work 

370 


THROUGH FAIRY HALLS 


and the coarsest of food to eat, they were happy. Only Vladimir 
felt some blot on his joy because of his father’s anger. At last, 
after some time, the father’s heart softened; he took pity on his 
son and received him again to his house with his wife and her 
nurse. Then he gave him another vessel and said: 

Now, my son, you have seen the consequences of your last 
foolish bargain. Do not repeat your folly. Trade this mer- 
chandise to your own advantage and come back rich!” 

So Vladimir was full of gratitude and joy, and leaving Helena 
in his father s care, he set out with more alluring visions of 
fortune even than those he had had before. But when he put 
into the very first port, what should he see coming toward him 
but a miserable procession of prisoners, with a white haired old 
man at the head, being driven harshly along by soldiers. 

‘‘Where are you driving these poor prisoners?” cried Vladimir. 

‘‘They cannot pay the King’s taxes,” cried the soldiers. “They 
shall rot in dungeons until they do!” 

Now, Vladimir, remembering his father’s words, tried to 
turn away from the pitiful sight and set about selling his cargo 
with great exercise of worldly wisdom, but the look of those 
poor prisoners and the sound of their cries were ever in his 
heart. For the life of him, he could not hold back. He went 
straight to the chief magistrate of the city and gave him all his 



37i 




MY BOOK HOUSE 


merchandise to pay up their debts and set them free. Then he 
returned home with an empty vessel and not a single copper 
to show. Falling at his father’s feet, he told him what he had 
done and begged his forgiveness, but this time the father drove 
him still more sternly out of his presence. 

Long were the days when Vladimir and his bride were for- 
bidden the father’s home, but fathers are fathers, and I doubt not 
the mother was ever pleading for her son, for, however that may 
be, the father yielded again at last, took his son to his heart and 
prepared a vessel for him still finer than the other two. 

“Behold,” said he, “your last chance to win fortune.” 

Now ere Vladimir departed, he had the portrait of his wife’s 
old nurse painted on the stem of his ship and on the prow the 
face of Helena herself, beautiful as the sunrise making rosy the 


snow-capped 
beautiful as the 
gleaming across 
Then once more 
his loved ones 
H e sailed 
months, and at 
anchor in the 
city where dwelt 
All the citizens 
to the anchor- 
this strange ship 
noon the King 
ed thither in 
the captain was 
his business 
sooner had the 
to the ship than 



Carpathians , 
moonlight 
the Danube, 
he took leave of 
and made off. 
both weeks and 
last he dropped 
bay of a great 
a mighty king, 
came swarming 
age to examine 
and in the after- 
himself proceed- 
state to ask who 
and what was 
there. But no 
King come close 
he saw on the 


372 


THROUGH FAIRY HALLS 

prow the portrait of that wondrously beautiful maiden. Scarcely 
could he believe his eyes. Instantly he ordered that the captain 
be brought before him. 

Stranger-from-no-one-knows-where,” he cried, “why have 
you painted on the prow the face of that beautiful maid?” 

Then Vladimir told him all his tale, but no sooner had he 
finished than the King held out his arms with tears in his eyes, 
and held him in close embrace. 

That girl is my only child!” he cried, “stolen from me these 
many years! And when he had made an end to weeping for 
joy, he took Vladimir to the palace and told the good news to 
the Queen and the Court. Then was Vladimir proclaimed heir 
to the King and great was the rejoicing and festivity everywhere. 
Only the King’s Chief Minister was silent and sullen, for to him 
the hand of the Princess had been promised when she was but a 
child and he had no mind to lose her now. The King soon gave 
Vladimir splendid gifts for his own mother and father and a much 
finer ship than his own, then he bade him go home at once to 
bring Helena and all his family back to court. 

“Your father shall be my brother, your mother my sister,” 
he said. 

Now Vladimir was overjoyed to obey, only he begged the 
King to send with him one of his Ministers that his father might 
not disbelieve the strange tale he should have to tell. So whom 
should the King give Vladimir for companion, but that same 
Minister who wanted the Princess himself. All through the 
voyage, the Minister wore a fair face and made pretence to be 
Vladimir’s friend, but his heart was dark, and he said to himself, 
“When once the girl is safe in my power, I’ll make an end of 
this troublesome fellow.” 

They arrived safely in port and Vladimir’s father was surprised 
to see his son return in such splendid state. “It must be you 

373 


MY BOOK 


HOUSE 


have learned at last to make a shrewd bargain!” he cried, but 
Vladimir answered smiling, ‘‘Nay, nay, ’tis to my first bad bar- 
gain my fortune is due.” And he told his father all his tale. 
Then was the father astounded, but as the Chief Minister was 
there to bear witness to the truth of the matter, no one could 
doubt it. The Princess was overjoyed to think of seeing her 
father and mother again, and the good nurse likewise, so they 
all set out for that distant kingdom. 

Now the Chief Minister had found Helena ten times more 
beautiful even than he remembered, and so he was more de- 
termined than ever to be rid of her young husband. When 
they had sailed a long distance and the night was dark, he sum- 
moned Vladimir to a lonely spot on the deck. The young 
man came with no thought of evil, but as he drew near, the Chief 
Minister seized him and hurled him overboard. The next morn- 
ing, finding that he had disappeared, Helena and his mother 
and father began to lament. “Alas and alack! He has fallen 
overboard and been lost,” the false Minister said, pretending 
great grief, and then he devoted himself to comforting the Princess. 

Meantime, Vladimir was carried along by the waves and 
dashed up on a huge barren rock. When morning came, he saw 
nothing about him but a dreary waste of waters, and there he 
must sit, scorched by the sun, with no shelter whatever and 
nothing at all to eat but a kind of moss that grew there. For 
fifteen days and fifteen nights there he sat, and how was he ever 
to be got off? At last and at last he saw a small boat coming 
toward him. He rose and made frantic signals, but little he 
knew whether the man in the boat would come to his aid or not, 
for the rock was jagged and dangerous and the waves came 
beating fiercely upon it, so landing was well nigh impossible. 
But as the man drew near enough to see Vladimir’s face, lo! he 
stood up in the boat and in his features shone a light that was 

374 


THROUGH FAIRY HALLS 

brighter than the sun. Straight he made toward the dangerous 
shore, for the man was none other than the white haired old 
fellow who had marched at the head of the prisoners Vladimir 
had saved from the dungeons. And let the waves beat how 
they would, he steered his boat up to the rocks and took Vladimir 
safely off. Then he bore him to the very village where the poor 
prisoners still were dwelling. One and all, they crowded to help him. 
They gave him food and new clothing and cheered him off on his way.' 

For thirty days more, Vladimir wandered, till his clothes 
were ragged as before and his face scarce to be recognized for 
the tan and long-grown beard. In this fashion he arrived at 
the palace of the King. He knocked for admittance at the garden 
gate, but the gardener, not knowing him at all, drove him away. 
Soon there came by the King with Vladimir’s mother, the Queen 
with Vladimir’s father, and Helena herself, conversing with the 
Minister. At sight of her, apparently so forgetful of him, Vladimir 
bowed his head and covered his face with his hands. Nevertheless, 
as his wife passed him by, she saw the wedding ring on his finger 
and stopped in great agitation to ask him where he got it. 

“Nay, how can you speak to that dirty beggar’” 
asked the Minister, dragging her off. But Helena was greatly 
troubled, and as soon as she reached the palace, she told the 
King, her father, how she had recognized her husband’s ring 
and urged him to send for the beggar and ask him how he came 
by it. So the King sent his servants to fetch the beggar, and 
as soon as Helena looked full in his face she knew him. Then 
she cast herself into his arms and there was great rejoicing. As 
to the Minister, when the Great King heard of his treachery, 
he was publicly disgraced and banished forever from the land.’ 
And when they were all once more united and happy, a little bird 
came and whispered into the ear of Vladimir’s father: 

“After all, is it so fruitless— your son’s kind of barg aining ?” 

375 


MY BOOK HOUSE 


HOW THE WATERFALL CAME TO THE THIRSTING 
MOUNTAIN 
A Roumanian Fairy Tale 
IGH up among the wild Carpathians there was 
once a mountain that was dry and barren and 
rocky. Only a few poor trees grew on its rugged 
slopes, and here and there a clump of dwarfed and 
straggling bushes. Now the Old Man of the 
Mountain longed to have his mountain fresh and 
green, and covered with trees and flowers, so he 
called aloud to the Fairy who dwelt in the smiling 
meadows below: 

“O Fairy of the Meadows, quench my thirst, I pray you, with 
a gift of living waters! Surely you at whose smile the meadows 
burst into bloom, have power to make me merry too, with the 
laughter of leaping waterfalls and the springing of trees and 
flowers.” 

The Fairy of the Meadows looked up at the barren mountain 
side; she listened to the parched cracked voice of the Old Man of 
the Mountain and longed with all her heart to bring him life and 
bloom. 

“O Man of the Mountain,” she cried, “I know not at this 
moment how to make you a waterfall, but never again shall I be 
content till your slopes are as green as my meadows. I shall go 
out into the world and search, and you shall not see my face 
again till I have found you a gushing stream to leap down your 
barren sides and make them burst into bloom!” 

So saying, the Fairy bade farewell to the Old Man of the 
Mountain and set out on her journey. She rode a faithful horse 
as she left the meadows, but she had gone only a short distance 
when she stopped beside a rosebush, made herself as small as a 
bumble bee and turned her steed into a butterfly. Then she 

376 



THROUGH FAIRY HALLS 

hitched her butterfly to the rosebush and sat down inside one of 
the blossoms to think what she should do. She was longing, 
longing to be wise enough to know where to find a waterfall, 
when suddenly she heard the sound of voices near her. Peeping 
out from her safe retreat in the rose, she saw not far away a 
beautiful Princess kneeling at the feet of an ugly Wizard. And 
lo! the maiden’s glorious hair swept down her back like a water- 
fall and gleamed like a shining stream. 

“O Wizard,” the maiden was crying, ‘‘take my long hair if 
you will, but set free my father and give him back to me.” 

Then the Wizard seized the maiden’s locks. 

“Aye! I will have your hair,” he snarled. 

The heart of the Fairy was touched at once with pity, so she 
sprang on her butterfly and flew like a flash to the Princess. Close 
to her ear she darted, all unseen by the Wizard, and she whispered: 

“Have courage, my maid. Give not your hair to the Wizard. 
He has no mind to give you back your father. Whatever your 
trouble, trust in me!” 

On hearing these words, the Princess took heart. She sprang 
to her feet and though the Wizard still tried to hold her locks 
fast, they flowed through his fingers like water and slipped, 
rippling, out of his reach. 

“Nay, false one!” cried the maiden. “I will keep my hair 
and still set my father free! Begone from my sight!” 

At that, the Wizard, snarling once more, vanished in a mist. 

“Now,” said the Fairy to the Princess, “tell me your trouble.” 

So the Princess took the Fairy in the palm of her hand and, 
between much weeping, this is the tale she told. 

“My father is Michael, a great lord and hospodar of this 
land. Some years ago he learned that Dracul, the Wizard, who 
lived amid the barren crags and the thirsty crags, had in his keep- 
ing a wonderful sword that sprang from its sheath whenever 


377 


MY BOOK HOUSE 



there was need of defending the pure and the 
good. Having need of such help to keep the 
peace in his kingdom, he besought the Wizard 
to lend him the sword. Now Dracul seemed 
all too willing to get the sword out of his 
way, so he gave it into my father’s keeping, 
but he made him promise, under penalty of 
the direst punishment, that I should never 
touch it, nay, nor so much as mention it 
to anyone. The sword did many a noble deed and for a long 
time I obeyed Dracul’s command. But one day my father 
chanced to leave it near me as I sat weaving. Scarcely were 
we alone when I heard an imploring voice. ‘Save me, O 
maiden!’ it cried, ‘save me! Let but the hem of your gown 
touch me. I am a knight and boyar whom the Wizard impris- 
oned in the sword! He feared lest I should find the secret 
that would destroy his power to weave wicked spells. Ah, 
maiden, touch me but once and I shall be free!’ 

“The knight’s voice moved me deeply. Kneeling beside the 
sword, I gently touched it. Then behold, O fairy! The sword 
was shattered. From its flashing pieces there sprang a fine 
young boyar in steel and silver. He knelt and kissed the hem 
of my gown. 

“ ‘O maiden,’ he cried, ‘to you the deep thanks of my heart 
are due. I go forth into the world to search for the secret that 
will destroy Dracul’s evil power. Farewell till we meet again.’ 
And he sped over the terrace and out through the palace gates. 

“Scarcely had he gone, when my maidens came rushing to 
tell me that at that very moment, my father had suddenly dis- 
appeared, and I knew that the Wizard had punished my deed 
by spiriting him away. By sunlight and starlight I traveled, by 
moonlight and dreary dark, and threw myself at Dracul’s feet, 

378 


THROUGH FAIRY HALLS 

but alas! Dracul has ever coveted my hair and you yourself 
know that he will not restore my father, save at the price of my 
locks.” 

Thus the Princess finished her tale. 

“Trust me,” said the Fairy, “we will yet learn the way to save 
your father. So she changed her butterfly into a horse again, 
bade the Princess mount the steed before her, and together they 
galloped away, over hill, over dale, toward the Wizard’s castle. 

As they went, the Fairy noticed how the Princess’s beautiful 
hair waved and sparkled in the sunlight, and when the wind 
blew a single thread away, it fell on the grass by the wayside and 
turned into a strand of glistening dew drops. 

“Ah,” thought the Fairy joyously, “if one thread of her hair 
makes a strand of dew drops, might not all of it make a waterfall?” 
In her heart she was sure that she knew the reason why Dracul 
of the barren crags and the thirsty crags was so determined to 



MY BOOK HOUSE 


maiden, she could also accomplish the purpose for which she had 
left her green meadows and the parched Old Man of the Mountain. 

They were just about to mount the hill toward the Wizard’s 
castle, when who should come dashing across their path and draw 
rein before them but that fine young boyar, the Knight of the 
Sword himself. 

“Fair maiden,” he cried, “I have heard but now how you 
and your father have been punished because you set me free. 
Be at rest. I have learned what the magic power is that will 
destroy Dracul’s evil spells.” 

“Ah,” said the Fairy, “I too am seeking to save the Princess 
and her father. Tell me the charm.” 

So the Knight leaned over and whispered the secret into the 
Fairy’s ear. At his words a great light shone in her face. Then 
she bade the Princess spring down from the horse, and the young 
Boyar gallantly offered to guard her well, while the Fairy went on 
to the castle. Up to the great gate she rode and she blew three 
blasts on a silver horn that hung by the great porticullis. In 
answer to her summons out came Dracul himself. 

“I crave,” said she, “a room in your castle in which to rest, 
and, above all, a goblet of cool fresh water.” 

Now Dracul had no water to give, as the Fairy knew full 
well, for all his wells and springs were as parched and dried up 
as his wicked heart. But this was a powerful Fairy whom the 
Wizard did not wish to offend, so he pretended to receive her 
graciously and bade her rest in a splendid chamber while he 
went to fetch her the drink. Then he hurried off to the dungeon 
where he kept Michael, the hospodar. 

“Aha, great hospodar, that rulest over rats and dungeon 
vermin,” he mocked, “I have stolen your lovely daughter and 
taken her away to a far off land. Never shall you see her more.” 

The words were false, but the Wizard knew that they would 
380 


through fairy halls 

bring tears to Michael’s eyes. And while the poor father wept, 
Dracul caught the tears in a golden goblet and carried them off 
to serve to the Fairy. 

“Here,” said he, “is your cool, fresh water.” The Fairy 
however, knew what was in the goblet, and when the Wizard 
had left her alone, she waved her wand and caused a beautiful 
maiden to spring up from the tears. 

Fair creature, ’ said she, “you are all goodness, tenderness 
and beauty, for you are the child of loving tears. When the 
Wizard sees you, the evil will die in his heart.” 

Ah, said the Tear-Maiden gently, “whoever looks deep 
into my eyes is melted at once with compassion.” 

Soon, back came Dracul blustering into the Fairy’s chamber. 
Suddenly he saw, tall and beautiful before him, her eyes beaming 
with sorrowful gentleness and tenderness, a mild light glowing 
about her — the Tear-Maiden. 

“Whence came you?” he cried in a fright and clapped his 
hands over his eyes. “Away! Away! Away!” But no one 
made answer. Only the Tear-Maiden continued to beam on 
him gently, softly, sorrowfully. And Dracul felt the light of 
her gaze go deep down into his heart. Slowly he dropped his 
fingers from his face and looked long and full into her eyes. Then 
his head fell on his breast, his shoulders drooped, his lips began 
to quiver, his chest heaved and he burst into tears of repentance. 

“Ah,” said the Fairy, “this maiden will stay forever by your 
side. If you would be able to look into her eyes and smile instead 
of weeping, there is but one thing to do— bring me Michael, the 
hospodar, free!” 

Without a word, Dracul turned away and hurried off to fetch 
Michael. Then the Fairy ran to the window and joyously waved 
her kerchief to the Princess and the Boyar. The Boyar took the 
Princess up onto the horse before him, and off they dashed to 

381 


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the castle. When they entered the Fairy’s chamber, there stood 
Michael himself with the Wizard, and the Princess threw herself 
joyously into her father’s arms. 

As to Dracul, amid all the rejoicing, he stood humbly before 
the Tear-Maiden and looked again deep into her eyes. 

“Ah,” said the Fairy to the Boyar, “his power to work evil 
spells is gone forever. Your charm worked well.” 

Then the Princess knelt in gratitude before the Fairy and cried: 

“O you, who have brought us such joy — what may I do for 
you? My dearest possession I would gladly give to show you 
how deep is my gratitude.” 

“Then,” said the Fairy, “give me your hair.” 

So the Maiden, of her own free wish and desire, gave the 
Fairy the locks that all the power of the Wizard could never get 
from her. 

Back to the Old Man of the Mountain went the Fairy. And 
she hung that gleaming strand from the highest crag on the 
mountain top. Then suddenly, lo! it began to ripple and wave, 
and in another moment, down it gushed in a torrent, leaping 

382 


through fairy halls 

5s, r< ? k ^- t0 r0Ck ’ laughing ’ roaring - tumbling, flinging forth 
Ae^ofdmm« spray. And wherever it went, there the mountain 
burst into splendid bloom. 

“This for my thanks,” said the Old Man of the Mountain, 
in a voice now firm and full, and he flung down into the Fairy’s 
lap carpet of brilliant flowers. 

. *‘ K ™ as 7 orth searching for— that waterfall,” said the Fairy 
of the Meadows. 

THE CATARACT OF LODORE 
Robert Southey 
“How does the water 
Come down at Lodore?” 

My little boy asked me. 

Advancing and prancing and glancing 
and dancing, 

Recoiling, turmoiling, and toiling 
and boiling, 

And gleaming and streaming and steaming 
and beaming, 

And rushing and flushing and brushing 
and gushing, 

And flapping and rapping and clapping 
and slapping, 

And curling and whirling and pur ling 
and twirling, 

And thumping and plumping and bumping 
and jumping, 

And dashing and flashing and splashing 
and clashing, 

And so never ending, but always descending, 

Sounds and motions forever and ever are 
blending, 

All at once and all o’er, with a mighty uproar 
And this way the Water comes down at Lodore. 

383 



MY BOOK HOUSE 



THROUGH THE MOUSE HOLE 
A Czech Fairy Tale 

Before times long past, there reigned a King somewhere and he 
had three sons. One day when they were grown up and had been 
trained as befits princes, they came to their father and said: 

“Kingly father, permit us to visit strange lands. It is well 
for us to know more of the world.” 

Now the King thought it good for his sons to ride abroad and 
match their strength and wits with the world, but he made this 
one condition: “Ye are all of an age when most young men seek 
the partners of their lives. So far as I know, ye will do likewise. 
I have no wish to tell you what princesses to choose, but this 
command I lay upon you— return before a year and a day and 
bring me some gift from your loved ones, that I may know what 
sort of maidens have pleased you.” 

The princes were astonished that their father had guessed 
their thoughts so well, and they agreed at once to his command. 
Each one said that he would shoot an arrow into the air and start 
out on his adventures in whatever direction the arrow fell. So 
they took their crossbows and set off for the open field. The 
eldest son let the bow-string go, and his arrow flew to the East. 
The second let the string go, and his arrow flew to the West. 

384 


THROUGH FAIRY HALLS 

“And where am I to aim?” cried the youngest whose name 
was Yarmil. Just at that moment a mouse ran past him and into 
its hole. He let the string go, and his arrow flew after the mouse. 

“O ho!” cried the brothers. “See where thou must go, Yarmil! 
Into a mousehole!” And they thought it a matter for jesting. 
But Yarmil, nothing daunted, prepared for the road. 

“Through a mouse-hole I shall find fortune, as well as by 
another way,” cried he, and when the eldest son rode down the 
broad and pleasant highway to the East, and the second son 
down the broad and pleasant highway to the West, Yarmil made 
straight for the mousehole. He approached it boldly on his 
horse and at the very moment he came full upon it, the small 
entrance grew suddenly large, so he rode in quite easily without 
even slackening speed. Sooner than he could think, he found 
himself in an open country in the midst of which stood a white 
marble castle. Nowhere did he see a living soul, but scarcely had 
he entered the gate, when a lady came forth to meet him. She 
wore long flowing robes of white and her face, hair, eyes all were 
white as the new-fallen snow. By the bridle she held a spirited 
snow-white steed and she silently beckoned to Yarmil to descend 
from his horse and mount the one she was holding. Scarcely 
had he done so, when the creature rose with him through the air, 
and regardless of bit, flew on and on, till it brought him to earth 
before a splendid castle. Round about, wherever the eye could 
see, was a beautiful garden abloom with flowers, wherein birds of 
all sorts were singing. 

Yarmil dismounted in great amazement, but as he took his 
steed by the bridle to lead him into the courtyard, it broke sud- 
denly from his hand, rose lightly into the air and disappeared 
like a great white bird in the clouds. Then Yarmil advanced and 
rapped on the door of the castle. No one appeared to answer 
his summons, but the door itself swung open. Up a flight of 

385 


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broad marble steps he climbed to the door of the first chamber. 
Again he rapped. No answer, but this door like the first, swung 
open. Then Yarmil entered the most magnificent room he had 
ever seen, a hall ablaze with gold and jewels. Beyond this, he 
passed through a succession of chambers, each one more splendid 
than the last, and so on till he came to the eleventh. Here he 
paused a moment, for, in this room he saw a great crystal tub, 
bound about with golden hoops, and into this tub through a 
golden pipe, clear, fresh water was pouring. The twelfth and 
last chamber unlike all the others was small and bare, and, strange 
to relate, in the center stood a pan, made solidly of diamonds. 

Advancing swiftly to the pan, Yarmil stooped to examine it, 
and at once he saw written upon it these strange words: “Carry 
me near your heart and bathe me each day, so you will set free one 
who is bound.” 

Still more astonished, Yarmil lifted from the pan a diamond 
cover. Below that, he found a golden cover, and last of all one of 
silver. As he dragged up the last cover with great difficulty, he 
suddenly saw at the bottom of the pan, what but an ugly toad! 
On first thought, he turned to run away, but no! in spite of himself 

386 


THROUGH FAIRY HALLS 



he lifted the toad fron the pan and put it in his bosom. At first 
the touch of it chilled him through and through, but the next 
moment he felt himself strangely happy. 

Straightway he went to the eleventh chamber, took out the 
toad and washed it carefully in the crystal tub with the clear, 
pure water that flowed from the golden pipes. But for all he 
bathed the creature, it still remained a toad. Carefully he put 
it back in its place near his heart and went out into the garden. 

Here the sight of the trees, the odor of the flowers and the 
songs of the birds cheered him till midday. Then he went back 
to the castle and to his great surprise, saw in the first chamber 
a table spread with the daintiest dishes. Here, as he sat and ate, 
he was served by unseen hands. After dinner he looked more 
carefully about the room, and now the splendor did not charm 
him so much as at first. Instead, he rejoiced in the musical 
instruments, writing materials and books which were everywhere 
about. With these he made bold to busy himself, and so he did, 
day after day, but always his first thought was the care of the toad. 
The lonely life troubled him somewhat at first, for never once 
did a human being appear, but he mastered this feeling soon, and 

387 


MY BOOK HOUSE 


then one thing only grieved him — the more he washed the toad, 
the uglier it seemed to grow. Still he carried it always next his 
heart, and never failed to bathe it. 

At length it was nearing the end of the year when he must 
return to his father and carry him a present. Yarmil knew not 
what to do. How could he leave the toad? What could he take 
to the King as a gift? Such thoughts as these made him sad and 
anxious. When the very last day of the year came, he was quite 
beside himself, but, as he was passing through his room, he sud- 
denly saw on his writing table a sheet of paper. Seizing it quickly 
he read: 

“Dear Yarmil, — Be patient as I am patient. A gift for thy 
father thou wilt find in the pan. Give it to him, but tarry not 
long at home. Put me back in the pan.” 

Hastening with joy to the twelfth chamber, Yarmil found in 
the pan a splendid casket. He knew not what was in it, but he 
took it obediently, removed the toad from his bosom, and put 
it carefully back in the pan. Then he hastened from the castle. 
In the courtyard he found the snow-white steed in waiting. At 
once he threw himself on its back, it rose with him into the air, 
and flew on and on, regardless of bit, till it dropped to earth before 
the white castle. The white lady appeared again, gave Yarmil 
his own horse and took the white one from him. 

When he had passed through the gate of the castle and turned 
to look back, lo! there was naught behind but a mouse-hole. He 
rushed on at a gallop and arrived at his father’s castle almost at 
the same moment as his brothers, so that all three were able to 
appear together before their father, and say: “Here we are, 
according to thy command.” 

“But have ye brought gifts from your princesses?” asked the 
king. 

“Of course,” cried the elder brothers, proudly. Yarmil 

388 


THROUGH FAIRY HALLS 

answered, as it were timidly, with a nod; for he knew not what 
was in that casket taken from the pan. 

The king had invited a great number of guests to look at the 
gifts. All were in the banqueting-hall. The king led his sons 
thither, and when the feast was ended, he said to the eldest: 
“Now give me the gift from thy princess.” 

“My love is the daughter of a great king. With her I have 
spent the year in feasting and tourneys and tilts at arms,” said 
the prince proudly, and he gave his father a splendid casket. 

The king took out therefrom a small mirror, about the size 
of an aspen leaf, and as he looked in it, he wondered not a little 
that he saw his whole person in such small compass. Then he 
said: “Well, it is not a bad gift.” 

The second son also said proudly that his love was the daughter 
of a great king and from his princess he presented his father with 
a mirror even smaller. Still the King only said: “It is not a 
bad gift,” and he turned to Yarmil. “But what has thy princess 
sent me?” In silence and humbly, Yarmil gave him the casket. 
The king barely looked in it when he cried out in amazement, 
for therein was a mirror no bigger than one’s little thumb nail, 
in which the King could see not only his own person, but the 
whole great hall, the gleaming tapers on the wall, and all the guests 
besides. 

“Now,” cried the king, “here is a Princess who knows what 
is what,” and embracing Yarmil, he added with tenderness: 
“Thou hast brought me true joy, my son.” 

Yarmil called to mind the ugly toad, and had no regret now 
that he had spent a whole year in nursing it; but his brothers 
were enraged that he had found such a thing through a mouse-hole. 

When the feast was over and the princes were parting with 
their father, he said: “Go now with rejoicing, but return in a 
year and a day, and bring me portraits of your princesses.” 

389 


MY BOOK HOUSE 


The elder brothers promised with joy, but Yarmil barely 
nodded, for he feared what his father would say should he bring 
the toad’s portrait. Still he went with his brothers beyond the 
town, where he parted with them, and galloped on to the mouse- 
hole. At the white castle the white lady took his horse and gave 
him the white steed, which rose through the air, and regardless 
of bit, flew on till it reached the golden castle, where it disappeared 
like a dove in the clouds. 

In the castle nothing was changed. Yarmil hurried to the 
twelfth chamber and there stood the diamond pan as before. 
Hastily he removed the three covers, carefully took out the toad, 
and placed it tenderly in his bosom. Now he bathed it twice 
each day, but to his grief it grew uglier. How could he take back 
home the portrait of such a princess. 

At last the day was near in which he must return. He looked 
continually on his writing-table till he saw to his great joy a sheet 
of paper on which was written in silver letters — 

“Dear Yarmil, — Be patient, as I am patient. Thou hast my 
portrait in the pan; give it to thy father, but tarry not long. Put 
me back in the pan.” 

Yarmil hastened to the twelfth chamber, and found in the pan 
a casket still richer than the first. He took it quickly, and put 
the toad in its place. Then he hurried forth, and sat on the white 
steed, which brought him to the white castle, where the white lady 
gave him his own horse. He galloped on and arrived at the gate 
of his father’s castle at the same time with his brothers. They 
stood before their father and said: “Here we are, as thou hast 
commanded.” 

“Do ye bring me portraits of your princesses?” asked the king. 

“Yea!” exclaimed the two elder brothers, full of pride. But 
Yarmil only answered with a nod, for he knew not what portrait 
the casket contained. 


39o 


through fairy halls 

The king led them to the banqueting-hall, where the guests 
were assembled. When the banquet was over, he said to the 
eldest: Now show me the portrait of thy princess.” 

The eldest brother gave a rich casket to his father. He opened 
it, t°°k out a portrait, and looking at it from every side, said at 
last: “That is a beautiful lady; she pleases me. Still there are 
fairer than she in the world.” Then he said to his second son: 
“And the portrait of thy princess?” 

The second son gave him promptly a richer casket, and smiled 
with happiness. He thought that his father could never have 
seen a lovelier princess, but the king only said: “A beautiful lady 
too, still there are more beautiful in the world.” 

Then he nodded to Yarmil, who gave with trembling hands his 
diamond casket. The King opened it and looked fixedly at what 
lay within, unable to utter a word. Yarmil could but hold his 
breath. Was it the portrait of a toad that lay there? “Ah,” 



39 « 



MY BOOK HOUSE 


cried the King at last. 4 4 1 had not believed in all the world such 
a lady was to be found/’ 

The guests crowded around the portrait, and in one voice 
agreed with the king. At last Yarmil drew near and looked on 
the face of his princess. Such loveliness was unbelievable! Now 
he regretted no whit that he had spent two years in lone life caring 
patiently for a toad. 

Next day the princes were taking farewell, and the king said 
to them: “After this time I will not let you go again. In a year 
and a day I wish to see your princesses; then we will celebrate the 
weddings.” 

Full of hope they all set out and in good time Yarmil came 
to the castle. He hastened at once to the twelfth chamber, eagerly 
hoping to find there his wondrous fair princess; but no — he found 
in the pan the same ugly toad as before. He was disappointed, you 
may be sure, but he put the little creature in his bosom, and now 
washed it three times each day. In vain seemed all his labor, for 
the more he bathed, the uglier grew the toad. When the end of the 
year drew near it is a wonder that he did not despair; for the toad 
had become so hideous that he shivered whenever he looked at it. 
And now he must bring this to his father as his chosen one. 

Still he stuck to his task and would not give up his hope. On 
the very last day he reached to his bosom to look once more at 
the toad. At sight of it he hoped he might find some comfort; 
but a new surprise awaited him — the toad was gone. Now he 
began to lament, for after all, he loved the creature. He ran 
through the whole castle, and searched every room. He searched 
every tree and bush in the garden but no trace of the toad did 
he find. 

At last he remembered the dish in the twelfth chamber. 
Thither he ran, but on the threshold he stopped as if thunderstruck : 
That poor chamber had become a real paradise, and in the middle 

392 


THROUGH FAIRY HALLS 

of it stood a lady as beautiful, ah! more beautiful still than the 
portrait which he had carried to his father. In speechless amaze- 
ment he looked at her, and who knows how long he might have 
stood there had she not turned to him sweetly and said: 

“My dear, know that I am the daughter of a mighty King. 
Me and all my people a wicked wizard turned into toads because 
I refused to marry him. Thou hast endured much and patiently, 
but now at last thy faithful devotion has set me free from the spell. 
Come, let us be off at once, so as to come to thy father’s in 
time.” - 

Then she took him by the hand, and led him down the stairs. 
In front of the castle a carriage, with four white horses, was waiting. 
When they entered, the horses rushed off with such speed that soon 
they passed the white castle where the white fairy, who had kept 
guard over the princess, waved them a friendly greeting. Out 
through the gate they went and behind them was naught but a 
mouse-hole. So they arrived at the king’s castle just in the same 
moment with the two elder brothers. There were the Princesses 
they had brought, decked out in their gaudiest finery. But, alas! 
no one ever once looked at them. On Yarmil’s wonderful bride was 
every eye fixed. Never had there been seen in the kingdom so 
beautiful a creature. 

The king was rejoiced most of all. He conducted the bride 
to the banqueting-hall, where there was a multitude of guests, and 
with tears of delight he exalted the happiness of his youngest 
son. 

On the following day came the weddings of the three princes; 
and when the feasting was over, Yarmil set out with his wife on the 
journey to their kingdom. They found the mouse-hole no longer 
a mouse-hole, but a magnificent gate leading to a great city, in 
the middle of which stood a golden castle. Here there were 
multitudes of people everywhere, and in the castle throngs of 

393 


MY BOOK HOUSE 


courtiers and servants, who greeted with mighty applause their 
master and mistress, thanking Yarmil at the same time for their 
liberation. The royal pair were goodness itself, and so they all 
lived henceforth, happily beyond measure. 


/ 


/ 


//. 


./ / 


APRIL* * 

John Galsworthy 

Starry-eyed in April mom, 

Rain bells glitter on the thorn. 

Birds are timing down the lane 
Patter song of fallen rain. 

Spring can grieve, but Spring can be 
Very life of minstrelsy! 

Gorse has lit his lanterns all, 

Cob-webbed thrift’s a fairy ball, 

Earth it smells as good as new, 

Winds are merry, sky is blue. 

*From Moods, Songs and Doggerels. Reprinted by permission of the publishers Chari** 

Scribner’s Sons. ’ 


394 



THROUGH FAIRY HALLS 



Far up among the mountains, there lies a little hollow called 
The Elves’ Dell. Once upon a time there was a young man named 
Tudur ap Einion, who used to pasture his master’s sheep there. 

One summer night Tudur was about to return to the lowlands 
with his flock, when he began to loiter along and grumble to him- 
self that it was stupid business tending sheep, and he wished a gay 
lad like himself might have a little fun now and then. Suddenly 
he saw, perched on a stone near him, a little man in moss breeches 
with a fiddle under his arm. He was the tiniest wee creature 
imaginable. His coat was made of birch leaves; he wore a gorse 
flower for a cap, and his feet were shod with beetles’ wings. 

As Tudur stared, open mouthed, at the little man, the latter 
took up his fiddle which was nothing more than a stringed wooden 
spoon and ran his fingers across it. 

“Nos dawch! Nos dawch!” said the little man which means 
in English, “Good Evening to you! Good Evening to you!” 

“Ac i chwithan!” replied Tudur, which is, being interpreted, 
“The same to you!” 

“You are fond of dancing, Tudur,” went on the little man, 
“Why do anything so stupid as to tend sheep? Tarry here awhile, 
and you shall see some of the best dancers in Wales. I” — he 
swelled out his chest as he spoke, “I am their musician.” 

“But if you are a musician, where is your harp?” asked Tudur, 
loitering still more slowly. “Welshmen cannot dance without a 
harp.” 


395 


MY BOOK HOUSE 

“ Harp ! ” cried the wee creature scornfully. “ I can play better 
music for dancing upon my fiddle.” 

“Is that a fiddle,” asked Tudur in great curiosity, “that 
stringed wooden spoon you have in your hand?” 

For answer the little man nodded his head. 

And now through the dusky twilight, Tudur saw hundreds of 
pretty little sprites come tripping from all parts of the mountain 
toward the spot where he stood. Some were dressed in white, 
some in blue, and some in pink, and some carried glow-worms in 
their hands as torches. 

So lightly did they step that not a blade of grass nor any flower 
was crushed beneath their weight, and all made a curtsy or a bow 
to Tudur as they passed. Tudur responded at once to their ad- 
vances by doffing his cap and bowing to each in return. 

Presently the little minstrel drew his bow across the strings 
of his instrument, and the music he produced seemed to Tudur 
so enchanting, that he turned farther and farther away from his 
sheep and listened, open-mouthed. 

At sound of the sweet melody, the fairies (if fairies they were) 
ranged themselves in groups and began to dance. Round and 
round they went as the bow of the little minstrel flew. All the 
dancing Tudur had ever seen could not compare with this. His 
feet began to keep time to the music. He longed to step into the 
magic circle. Yet there was something in his breast that warned 
him away from it, and he heard his sheep calling him to his 
duties down the mountain. 

“Come, Tudur, join in the dance, and make merry,” the little 
man cried. 

Tudur’s feet beat a faster tattoo, yet he still gave ear to the call 
of his sheep. 

“Nay, nay,” he said, “dance on, my little beauties! I take my 
sheep down the mountain.” 


396 


through fairy halls 

Nevertheless he did not go, he did not even turn away. He 
lingered and yielded himself more and more to the entertainment 
before him. The music became faster and the dance wilder. 

Come, Tudur, join in the dance and make merry,” the little 
man cried again. Tudur began to sway with his whole body in 
time to the rhythm. The bleating of his sheep sounded more and 
more faintly in the distance. 

“Come, Tudur, join in the dance and make merry,” the little 
man cried a third time with a sweep of his bow across the strings 
that seemed to the shepherd sweeter than anything he had ever 
heard in all his life before. 

Then Tudur flung all thought of his sheep to the winds. 
With a bound he threw himself into the midst of the circle. 
Hurling his cap in the air, he cried, “Now for it! Play away, 
fiddler ! Play away !” And he gave himself wholly up to the dance! 

But what a change! No sooner was he within the ring that 
had seemed so pleasant when he stood looking on from without, 
than in a twinkling all was altered. The gorse blossom cap 
vanished from the minstrel’s head, a pair of goat’s horns branched 
out instead, and his face became as black as soot. The creatures 
that a moment before he had thought so beautiful, now became ugly 
goats or dogs, while some took the shape of foxes and cats. And 
in the midst of these Tudur went dancing on! At length the 
motion grew so furious that Tudur could not make out the forms 
of the dancers at all. They whirled round and round him so 
rapidly that they looked like a wheel of fire. And still he flung 
himself about and waved his arms in time to their music. How 
gladly he would have tom himself away, but it seemed to him 
that he could not. In the midst of the ugly company he had 
chosen, he was forced to dance on and on and on. 

Next morning, Tudur’s master went up the mountain to see 


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what had become of his sheep, and his shepherd. He found the 
flock safe and sound half way down to the valley, but was aston- 
ished to see Tudur spinning around like mad in the midst of the 
hollow, all by himself. 

“What in the world is the silly lad doing?” he cried. 

“O, Master, Master, stop me!” shouted Tudur. 

“Stop yourself!” replied the master. “ In the name of heaven, 
stop yourself!” 

At these words Tudur suddenly stopped and blinked his 
eyes. There was no ugly circle about him. There was only 
the morning sunlight, the rocky crags above, and the sheep 
awaiting his tendance on the green, flower-sprinkled mountain 
pastures. 

“Tudur ap Einion, let me not find you deserting your sheep 
again!” cried his master. 

Tudur hung his head and went foolishly back to his charges. 



398 


through fairy halls 



EAST O’ THE SUN AND WEST O’ THE MOON 


A Norse Folk Tale 

Once upon a time there was a poor husbandman who had so 
many children that he hadn’t much of either food or clothing 
to give them. Pretty children they all were, but the prettiest 
was the youngest daughter, who was so lovely there was no end 
to her loveliness. 

’Twas on a Thursday evening late in the fall of the year. 
The weather was wild and rough outside; it was cruelly dark; 
rain fell and the wind blew till the walls of the cottage shook 
again. There they all sat round the fire, busy with this thing 
and that. But all at once, something gave three taps on the 
window-pane— tap! tap! tap! The father went out to see what 
was the matter, and, when he got out of doors, what should he 

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MY BOOK HOUSE 


“Good evening to you,” said the Bear. 

“The same to you,” said the man. 

“Will you give me your youngest daughter? If you will, 
I’ll make you as rich as you are now poor,” said the Bear. 

Well, the man would not be sorry to be so rich, but give up 
his daughter, no, that he wouldn’t so he said, “No” outright. 
But the White Bear said, “Think it over; next Thursday night 
I’ll come again and then you can give me your answer.” So off 
went the Bear and the father went into the house and told them 
all that had happened. Now when the lassie heard how she 
could lighten the poverty of her mother and father and brothers 
and sisters, she said at once she would go. Let her family beg 
her never so hard not to give herself up for them, go she would. 
So she washed and mended her rags, made herself as neat as she 
could and was ready to start. I can’t say her packing gave her 
much trouble. 

Next Thursday evening came the White Bear to fetch her, and 
she got upon his back with her bundle and off they went. When 
they had gone a bit of the way, the White Bear said: 

“Are you afraid?” 

“No, not at all,” said the lassie. 

“Well, mind and hold fast by my shaggy coat, and then 
there’s nothing to fear,” said the Bear. 

So she rode a long, long way till they came to a great steep 
hill. There, on the face of it, the White Bear gave a knock, a 
door opened and they came into a castle, where there were many 
rooms all lit up and gleaming with silver and gold. There too 
was a table ready laid, and it was all as grand as grand could be. 
Then the White Bear gave the lassie a silver bell and said when 
she wanted anything she had only to ring it. She would get 
what she wanted at once. 

Well, after she had eaten and drunk, and evening wore on. 


400 


THROUGH FAIRY HALLS 

she got sleepy and thought she would like to go to bed, so she 
rang the bell. She had scarce taken hold of it before she found 
herself in a room where there was a bed as fair and white as any 
one could wish to sleep in. But when she had put out her light 
and was almost asleep, she heard someone come tramping into 
the room next hers, and there that someone stayed till dawn. 
Night after night the same thing happened. Not a single human 
being did the lassie see through the day but when all the lights 
were out and everything was dark, someone would come in, lie 
down in the room next hers and sleep there until the dawn. But 
always before the daylight appeared whoever it was, was up and 
off, so as never to be seen. 

Things went on happily for a while, the lassie having every- 
thing she wanted. But all day long she had not a soul to talk to 
except the White Bear and she knew not whether it was man or 
beast who slept in the next room at night. So at last she began 
to grow silent and sorrowful. One day the Bear came to her 
and said, “What is it that troubles you so, my lassie? Here you 
have everything heart can wish. You have only to ring the 
bell and whatever you want is brought you.” 

“Nay then,” said the lassie, “I am lonely. Who is it that 
sleeps in the room next mine?” At that the Bear begged her to 
ask no such questions. “Trust me,” he said. “Don’t try to 
find out and in due time you will know.” Now the lassie was 
grateful to the Bear and fond of him, but in spite of what he said, 
she grew more and more sorrowful and more and more lonely. 
Who was it that shared the castle with her? Who was it? Who 
was it? Who was it? She was forever thinking of that one 
thing. All day long and all night long she wondered and fretted. 
Still for a long, long time she obeyed the Bear and did not try 
to find out. But at last she could stand it no longer. In the 
dead of night she got up, lit a candle and slipped softly into the 


401 


MY BOOK HOUSE 


next room. There asleep on a bed she saw the loveliest Prince 
one ever set eyes on. Slowly she crept up to him, bent over and 
kissed him. But as she did so, three drops of hot tallow fell 
from her candle onto his shirt and awoke him. 

“Alas! What have you done?” he cried. “Now you have 
spoiled all that was gained by the months you were faithful to 
me. Had you held out only this one year, you would have set 
me free. For a witch has cast a spell upon me, so that I am a 
White Bear by day and a man only at night. A year of good 
faith and you would have saved me, but now all is over between 
us. Back I must go to the castle EAST O’ THE SUN AND 
WEST O’ THE MOON. There I must marry the witch with a 
nose three ells long. She must now be the wife for me.” 

The lassie wept but there was no help for it. Go he must. 
Then she asked if she mightn’t go with him. 

No she mightn’t. 

“Tell me the way there then,” she said, “and I’ll search you out 
over all the world, no matter how hard or how long is the journey.” 

“But there is no way to that place,” cried the Prince. “It 
lies EAST O’ THE SUN AND WEST O’ THE MOON and 
that is all I can tell you.” 

Next morning when she awoke, both Prince and castle were 
gone. There she lay on a little green patch in the midst of the 
gloomy thick wood, and by her side lay the same bundle of rags 
she had brought with her from her home. 

When she had rubbed the sleep out of her eyes and wept at 
her loss of the Prince, she set out on her journey and walked 
many, many days. At last she came to a lofty crag. Under 
this an old woman sat and tossed a golden apple about. Her 
the lassie asked if she knew the way to the Castle that lay EAST 
O’ THE SUN AND WEST O’ THE MOON. But the old 
woman answered: 


402 


THROUGH FAIRY HALLS 


"All I know about it is that it lies EAST O' THE SUN AND 
WEST O’ THE MOON and thither you’ll come late or never. 
But go on to my next neighbor. Maybe she will be able to tell 
you more.” Then she gave the lassie her golden apple. “It 
might prove useful,” she said. 

So the lassie went on a long, long time till she came to an- 
other crag, under which sat another old woman with a golden 
carding-comb. Her the lassie asked if she knew the way to the 
castle that lay EAST O’ THE SUN AND WEST O’ THE MOON, 
but this old woman answered like the other, that she knew nothing 
about it. 

“Go on to my next neighbor. Maybe she will be able to 
tell you.” Then she gave the lassie the golden carding-comb and 
bade her take it with her. 

So the lassie went on and on, a far, far way and a weary, 
weary time till at last she came to another crag under which sat 
another old woman spinning with a golden spinning wheel. Her 
too she asked if she knew the way to the castle that lay EAST 
O’ THE SUN AND WEST O’ THE MOON. It was the same 
thing over again. She knew nothing, only this old woman said: 

“Go to the East Wind and ask him. Maybe he knows those 
parts and can blow you thither.” Then she gave the lassie her 
golden spinning wheel, and bade her take it with her. 

So the lassie toiled on many days before she got to the East 
Wind’s house, but at last she did get there, and then she asked the 
East Wind if he could tell her the way to the Prince who dwelt 
EAST O’ THE SUN AND WEST O’ THE MOON. Yes, the 
East Wind had often heard tell of the Prince and the castle, but 
he didn’t know the way, for he had never blown so far. 

“If you will,” he said, “I’ll take you to my brother, the West 
Wind. Maybe he knows, for he’s much stronger than I. Just 
get up on my back and I’ll carry you thither.” 

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MY BOOK HOUSE 

Yes, she got on his back, and I should just think they went 
briskly along. When they got there, they went into the West 
Wind’s house and the East Wind said the lassie he had brought 
would be glad to know if the West Wind knew how to get to the 
castle EAST O’ THE SUN AND WEST O’ THE MOON. 

“Nay,” said the West Wind, “so far I’ve never blown, but if 
you will, I’ll go with you to our brother the South Wind, for he 
is much stronger than either of us and has flapped his wings far 
and wide. Maybe he’ll tell you. You can get on my back and 
I’ll carry you to him.” 

So she got on his back and they travelled to the South Wind, 
and weren’t so very long on the way. 

When they got there the West Wind asked the South Wind if 
he could tell the lassie the way to the castle that lay EAST O 
THE SUN AND WEST O’ THE MOON. 

“Well, I’ve blustered about in most places in my time,” 
answered the South Wind, “but so far I’ve never blown. But 
if you will, I’ll take you to my brother, the North Wind. He is 
the strongest of the whole lot of us, and if he doesn’t know where 
it is, you’ll never find anyone in the world to tell you. You can 
get on my back and I’ll carry you thither.” 

So she got on his back, and away he went. 

When they got to the North Wind’s house, he was so wild 
and cross that cold puffs came from him a long way off. Heigh, 
there, what do you want?” he roared out to them, so that it 
struck them with an icy shiver. Then the South Wind told the 
North Wind the lassie had come in search of the Prince and the 
castle EAST O’ THE SUN AND WEST O’ THE MOON and 
asked him if he knew where it was. 

“Yes! I know well enough where it is!” roared the North 
Wind. “Once in my life I blew an aspen leaf thither, but I was 
so tired I couldn’t blow a puff for ever so many days after. If 

4°4 


THROUGH FAIRY HALLS 

you really wish to go so far and aren’t afraid to come along with 
me. I’ll take you on my back and see if I can blow you thither.” 

Yes, with all her heart! She must and would get there if 
she could possibly do it. And as for fear, no matter how madly 
he went, she wouldn’t be afraid at all. 

Early the next morning they started out. The North Wind 
puffed himself up, blew himself out, and made himself so stout 
and big, ’twas gruesome to look at him. So off they went high 
up through the air, as if they would never stop till they got to 
the world’s end. Down here below there raged a great storm. 

They tore on and on — no one can believe how far they went — 
and all the time they still went over the sea. The North Wind 
got more and more weary, and so out of breath he could scarcely 
bring out a puff; his wings drooped and drooped, till he sunk 
so low that the crests of the waves dashed over his heels. 

“Are you afraid?” asked the North Wind. 

No, she wasn’t. 

But they weren’t very far from the land, and the North Wind 
still had strength enough to throw her up on the shore. Now 
at last she was under the windows of the castle which lay EAST 
O’ THE SUN AND WEST O’ THE MOON. 

All through the day the lassie saw no one, but toward night 
she began to play with her golden apple. At that, out came 
Long-nose, the old witch, who was to have the Prince. 

“What do you want for your golden apple, lassie?” asked the 
Long-nose. 

“It’s not for sale for gold or money,” answered the lassie. 
“But if I may get to the Prince who lives here and see him, you 
shall have it.” 

That she might, said Long-nose and took the apple. But 
before Long-nose let the lassie in to see the Prince, she gave 
him a drink that put him to sleep, so though the lassie called 

405 


MY BOOK HOUSE 

him and shook him and wept over him, she could not wake him 
up. Then along came Long-nose and drove her out again. 

Next day the same thing happened again. So long as it 
was light the gloomy old castle was as still as death and no one 
even looked out of it. But at night fall there were signs of life 
within, and when the lassie began to card with the golden carding - 
comb out came Long-nose to buy it. 

“It’s not for sale for gold or money,” answered the lassie. 
“But if I may get to the Prince, you shall have it.” Now when 
the lassie went up this time she found the Prince fast asleep as 
before and all she called, and all she shook, and all she wept, 
she couldn’t wake him up. Then along came Long-nose and 
chased her out as before. 

So the next night the lassie sat down under the castle window 
and began to spin with her golden spinning wheel. Long-nose 
must have the spinning wheel too, so in went the lassie once 
more. But this time, the Prince’s servants had told him how 
a beautiful lassie had come and wept over him and called him 
two nights running. So, when Long-nose gave him his night drink, 
he poured it out secretly on the floor, and the lassie found, to her 
joy that his eyes were wide open. Then she told him the whole 
long story of how she had made the far, far journey and the 
Prince wept and smiled and had great joy of her coming. 

“You’ve got here just in the nick of time,” cried he, “for 
to-morrow’s my wedding. Be waiting at the gate and you’ll 
see what you will see.” 

Well, the wedding was to be the next night, for witches and 
trolls can never endure the daylight. But when the time came, 
the Prince announced: 

“Before I marry, I must see what my bride can do. Here is my 
fine white wedding shirt, but on it are three spots of tallow. I will 
have no other for a bride except the one who can wash this clean.” 

406 


THROUGH FAIRY HALLS 


That was no very great thing to do, said Long-nose. So 
when the moon stood high over the tree tops, there was hung 
a caldron of boiling lye in a clearing in the woods. Thither 
came running, tumbling, scolding, hurrying a whole pack of trolls 
and witches, long-nosed, red-eyed, ugly, a hideous sight to see. 
First Long-nose began to wash away as hard as she could, but 
the more she rubbed and scrubbed the bigger the spots grew. 
“Oh, you can’t wash! Let me try!” cried another, and wash, 
wash, wash, — every single one of them tried to wash that shirt. 
But the more they washed, the blacker and uglier the shirt grew, 
till at last it was as black all over as if it had been up the chimney. 

“Ah!” cried the Prince, “you’re none of you worth a straw! 
I’ll have none of you for my bride. Why! there outside the 
gate sits a beggar lass. I’ll be bound she knows how to wash 
better than the whole lot of you. Come in lassie!” he shouted. 

So in cam e the lassie, and almost before she had taken the shirt 
and dipped it in the water, it was as white as the driven snow. 

“You are the lassie for me!” cried the Prince. Then the 
witches and trolls rushed raging upon him, but ah! while they 
had been washing, the night had waned. Just then the sun 
came up. The moment it pierced the mist and gloom and shone 
fair on Long-nose she burst. The whole pack of trolls shrieked 
and threw up their hands and rushed for the castle, but it was 
no use at all. The very instant the sun struck them squarely, 
they every one of them vanished. 

As for the Prince and Princess, they took hold of hands and 
flitted away as far as they could from the castle that lay BAST O 
THE SUN AND WEST O’ THE MOON. 





MY BOOK HOUSE 


THE BOY AND THE ELF* 
Selma Lagerlof 
Once there was a boy. He 
was, let us say, something like 
fourteen years old; long and loose jointed and tow headed. He 
wasn’t good for much, that boy. His chief delight was to eat 
and sleep, and after that he liked best to make mischief. 

It was a Sunday morning and the boy’s parents were getting 
ready for church. The boy, in his shirt sleeves, sat on the edge 
of the table thinking how lucky it was that both father and mother 
were going away so the coast would be clear for a couple of hours. 
“Good! Now I can take down pop’s gun and fire off a shot, 
without anybody’s meddling interference,” he said to himself. 

But it was almost as if his father should have guessed the 
boy’s thoughts for just as he was on the threshold and ready 
to start, he stopped short, and turned toward the boy: “Since 
you won’t come to church with mother and me,” he said, “the 
least you can do is to read the service at home. Will you promise 
to do so?” “Yes, that I can do easy enough,” said the boy, 
thinking, of course, that he wouldn’t read any more than he felt 
like reading. 

The boy thought that never had he seen his mother get around 
so fast. In a jiffy she was over by the book shelf, near the fire- 
place, taking down Luther’s Commentary, which she laid upon 
the table, in front of the window — opened at the service of the 
day. She also opened the New Testament, and placed it beside 
the Commentary. Finally she drew up the big armchair, which 
was bought at the parish auction the year before, and which, as 
a rule, no one but father was permitted to occupy. 

The boy sat there thinking that his mother was giving her- 
self altogether too much trouble with this spread, for he had 
no intention of reading more than a page or so. But now, for 

♦From The Wonderful Adventures of Nils. Reprinted by permission of the publishers 
Doubleday, Page & Co. ’ 

408 



THROUGH FAIRY HALLS 

the second time, it was almost as if his father were able to see 
right through him. He walked up to the boy and said in a severe 
tone: “Now remember that you are to read carefully! For 
when we come back, I shall question you thoroughly; and if you 
have skipped a single page, it will not go well with you.” 

“The service is fourteen pages and a half long,” said his 
mother, piling it on, as it were. “You’ll have to sit down and 
begin the reading at once, if you expect to get through with it.” 

With that they departed. And as the boy stood in the door- 
way, watching them, he felt that he had been caught in a trap. 
“There they go congratulating themselves, I suppose, in the 
belief that they’ve hit upon something so good that I’ll be forced 
to sit and hang over the sermon the whole time that they are 
away,” thought he. 

But his father and mother were certainly not congratulating 
themselves upon anything of the sort; but, on the contrary, 
they were very much distressed. They were poor farmers, and 
their place was not much bigger than a garden-plot. When they 
first moved there, the bit of land couldn’t feed more than one 
pig and a pair of chickens; but they were uncommonly thrifty 
and capable folk — and now they had both cows and geese. 
Things had turned out very well for them; and they would have 
gone to church that beautiful morning satisfied and happy, if 
they hadn’t had their son to think of. Father complained that 
he was dull and lazy; he had not cared to learn anything at 
school, and he was such an all-around good-for-nothing that he 
could barely be made to tend geese. Mother could not deny 
that this was true; but she was most distressed because he was 
wild and bad: cruel to animals, and ill-willed toward human 
beings. “May God soften his hard heart and give him a better 
disposition!” said the mother, “else he will be a misfortune, 
both to himself and to us.” 


409 


MY BOOK HOUSE 


The boy stood there a long time pondering whether he should 
read the service or not. Finally, he came to the conclusion that 
this time it was best to be obedient. He seated himself in the 
easy chair, and began to read. But when he had been rattling 
away in an undertone for a little while, this mumbling seemed to 
have a soothing effect upon him — and he began to nod. 

It was the most beautiful weather outside! It was only the 
twentieth of March; but the boy lived in West Vemmenhog Parish, 
down in Southern Skans, where the spring was already in full 
swing. It was not as yet green, but fresh and budding. There 
was water in all the trenches, and the colt’s-foot at the edge of 
the ditch was in bloom. All the weeds that grew in among the 
stones were brown and shiny. The beech-woods in the distance 
seemed to swell and grow thicker with every second. The skies 
were high, and a clear blue. The cottage door stood ajar, and 
the lark’s trill could be heard in the room. The hens and geese 
pattered about in the yard; and the cows, who felt the spring 
air away in their stalls, lowed their approval every now and then. 

The boy read and nodded and fought against drowsiness. 
“No! I don’t want to fall asleep,” thought he, “for then I’ll 
not get through with this thing the whole forenoon.” 

But somehow he fell asleep. 

He did not know whether he had slept a short while or a 
long while; but he was awakened by hearing a slight noise back 
of him. 

On the window-sill, facing the boy, stood a small looking 
glass; and almost the entire cottage could be seen in it. As the 
boy raised his head, he happened to look in the glass and then 
he saw that the cover of his mother’s chest had been opened. 

His mother owned a great, heavy, iron-bound oak chest which 
she permitted no one but herself to open. Here she treasured 
all the things she had inherited from her mother, and of these 


410 


THROUGH FAIRY HALLS 

she was especially careful. Here lay a couple of old-time peasant 
dresses, of red homespun with short bodice and plaited skirt, 
and a pearl-bedecked breast-pin. There were starched white 
linen headdresses, and heavy silver ornaments and chains. Folks 
don’t care to go about dressed like that in these days, and several 
times his mother had thought of getting rid of the old things; 
but somehow, she hadn’t the heart to do it. 

Now the boy saw distinctly— in the glass— that the chest-lid 
was open. He could not understand how this had happened, 
for his mother had closed the chest before she went. She never 
would have left the precious chest open with only him there. 

He became low-spirited and apprehensive. He was afraid 
that a thief had sneaked his way into the cottage. He didn’t 
dare move, but sat still and stared into the looking glass. 

While he sat there and waited for the thief to make his 
appearance, he began to wonder what the dark shadow was 
which fell across the edge of the chest. He stared and stared 
and wouldn’t believe his eyes. But the object, which at first 
seemed shadowy, became more and more clear to him; and soon 
he saw that it was something real. It was nothing less than 
an elf that sat there — astride 
the edge of the chest! 

To be sure, the boy had 
heard stories about elves, but 
he had never dreamed that 
they were such tiny creatures. 

He was no taller than a hand’s 
breadth — this one, who sat on 
the edge of the chest. He had 
an old, wrinkled and beardless 
face, and was dressed in a black 
frock coat, knee-breeches and 

4i i 




MY BOOK HOUSE 


a broad-brimmed black hat. He was very trim and smart, with 
his white laces at the throat and wrist-bands, his buckled shoes, 
and the bows on his garters. He had taken from the chest an 
embroidered piece, and sat gazing at the old-fashioned handi- 
work with such an air of veneration that he did not observe the 
boy had awakened. 

The boy was somewhat surprised to see the elf, but, on the 
other hand, he was not exactly frightened. It was impossible 
to be afraid of one who was so little. And since the elf was so 
absorbed in his own thoughts that he neither saw nor heard, 
the boy thought that it would be great fun to play a trick on 
him; to push him over into the chest and shut the lid on him, 
or something of the kind. 

Yet the boy was not so courageous that he dared touch the 
elf with his hands; instead he glanced around the room for some- 
thing to poke him with. He let his gaze wander from the sofa 
to the leaf-table; from the leaf-table to the fireplace. He glanced 
at the kettles, then at the coffee-urn, which stood on a shelf, 
near the fireplace; on the water bucket, near the door; and on 
the spoons and knives and forks and saucers and plates, which 
could be seen through the half-open cupboard door. He looked 
up at his father’s gun, which hung on the wall beside the portrait 
of the Danish royal family, and at the geraniums and fuchsias, 
which blossomed in the window. And last, he caught sight of 
an old butterfly-snare that hung on the window frame. He had 
hardly set eyes on that butterfly-snare before he reached over 
and snatched it alongside the edge of the chest. He was him- 
self astonished at the luck he had. He hardly knew how he had 
managed it — but he had actually snared the elf. The poor little 
chap lay, head downward, in the bottom of the long snare, and 
could not free himself. 

At the first moment the boy hadn’t the least idea as to what 


412 


THROUGH FAIRY HALLS 

he should do with his catch; but he was very careful to swing 
the snare backward and forward, to prevent the elf from getting 
a foothold and clambering up. 

The elf began to speak, and begged, oh! so pitifully, for his 
freedom. He had brought them good luck these many years, 
he said, and deserved better treatment. Now, if the boy would 
set him free, he would give him an old penny, a silver spoon, 
and a gold coin, as big as the case on his father’s silver watch. 

The boy didn’t think that this was much of an offer; but it 
so happened that after he had got the elf into his power, he was 
afraid of him. He felt that he had entered into an agreement 
with something weird and uncanny, something which did not 
belong to his world; and he was only too glad to rid himself 
of the horrid creature. 

For this reason he agreed at once to the bargain, and held 
the snare still, so the elf could crawl out of it. But when the 
elf was almost out of the snare, the boy happened to think that 
he should have bargained for large estates, and all sorts of good 
things. He should at least have made this stipulation: that 
the elf conjure the sermon into his head. “What a fool I was 
to let him go!” thought he, and began to shake the snare violently, 
so the elf would tumble down again. 

But the instant the boy did that he received such a stinging 
box on the ear that he thought his head would fly in pieces. He 
was dashed— first against one wall, then against the other; finall y 
he sank to the floor, and lay there — senseless. 

When he awoke he was alone in the cottage. There was not 
a sign of the elf! The chest-lid was down, and the butterfly- 
snare hung in its usual place by the window. If he had not felt 
how the right cheek burned from that box on the ear, he would 
have been tempted to believe the whole thing a dream. “At 
any rate, father and mother will be sure to insist that it was 


413 


MY BOOK HOUSE 


nothing else,” thought he. “They are not likely to make any 
allowances for that old sermon, on the elf’s account. It’s best 
for me to get at that reading again.” 

But as he walked toward the table, he noticed something 
remarkable. It couldn’t be possible that the cottage had grown. 
But why did he have to take so many more steps than usual to 
get to the table? And what was wrong with the chair? It looked 
no bigger than it did a while ago; but now he had to step on the 
first rung and then clamber up in order to reach the seat. It 
was the same with the table. He could not look across the top 
without climbing to the arm of the chair. 

“ What in all the world is this? ” said the boy. “ I believe the elf 
has bewitched both armchair and table — and the whole cottage.” 

The Commentary lay on the table and, to all appearances, 
it was not changed; but there must have been something queer 
about that too, for he could not manage to read a single word of 
it without actually standing right in the book itself. 

He read a couple of lines, then happened to look up. With 
that his glance fell on the looking-glass; and then he cried aloud: 
“Look! There’s another little one.” 

For in the glass he saw plainly a little, little creature who 
was dressed in a hood and leather breeches. 

“Why, that one is dressed exactly like me!” said the boy, 
clasping his hands in astonishment. And then he saw that the 
thing in the mirror did the same thing. Thereupon, he began to 
pull his hair and pinch his arms and swing round; and instantly 
he did the same thing after him; he, who was in the mirror. 

The boy ran around the glass several times, to see if there 
wasn’t a little man hidden behind it, but he found no one there; 
and then he began to shake with terror. For now he understood 
that the elf had bewitched him, and that the creature whose 
image he saw in the glass was — himself. 


414 


THROUGH FAIRY HALLS 



The boy simply could not make himself believe that he had 
been transformed into an elf. “ It can’t be anything but a dream 
— a queer fancy,” thought he. “If I wait a few moments, I’ll 
surely be turned back into a human being.” 

He placed himself before the glass and closed his eyes. He 
opened them again after a couple of minutes, expecting to find 
that it had all passed over — but it hadn’t. He was — and re- 
mained — just as little. In other respects, he was the same as 
before. The thin, straw-coloured hair; the freckles across his 
nose; the patches on his leather breeches, and the dams on his 
stockings were all like themselves, with this difference; they 
had become diminished. 

No, it would do him no good to stand still and wait, of that he 
was certain. He must try something else. And he thought 
the wisest thing that he could do was to try to find the elf, and 
make his peace with him. 

He jumped to the floor and began to search. He looked be- 
hind chairs and cupboards; under the sofa and in the oven, and 
he even crawled down into a couple of ratholes— but he simply 
couldn’t find the elf. 

And while he sought, he cried and prayed and promised every- 
thing he could think of. Nevermore would he break his word 
to any one; never again would he be naughty; and never, never 
would he fall asleep any more over the sermon. If he might 
only be a human being once more, he would be such a good and 
helpful and obedient boy. But no matter how much he prom- 
ised, it did not help him the least little bit. 

415 


MY BOOK HOUSE 


Suddenly he remembered that he had heard his mother say 
all the tiny folk made their home in the cowshed; and, at once, 
he decided to go there, to see if he couldn’t find the elf. It was 
a lucky thing that the cottage-door stood partly open, for he 
never could have reached the bolt and opened it; but now he 
slipped through without difficulty. 

When he came out into the hallway, he looked around for 
his wooden shoes; for in the house, to be sure, he had gone about 
in his stocking feet. He wondered how he should ever manage 
with these big, clumsy wooden shoes on the door-step. When 
he observed that the elf had been so thoughtful as to bewitch 
even the wooden shoes, he was more troubled than ever. It 
was evidently the elf’s meaning that this affliction should last 
a long time. 

On the old plank-walk in front of the cottage, hopped a gray 
sparrow. It had hardly set eyes on the boy before it called out: 
“Teetee! Teetee! Look at Nils goosey-boy! Look at Thumbie- 
tot! Look at Nils Helgersson Thumbietot!” 

Instantly the geese and the chickens turned and stared at 
the boy ; and then they set up a fearful cackling. “ Cock-el-i-coo,” 
crowed the rooster, “good enough for him! Cock-el-i-coo, he 
has pulled my comb.” “Ka, ka, kada, serves him right!” cried 
the hens, and with that they kept up a continuous cackle. The 
geese got together in a tight group, stuck their heads together 
and asked: “Who can have done this? Who can have done 
this? ” 

But the strangest of all was, that the boy understood what 
they said. He was so astonished that he stood there as if rooted 
to the doorstep and listened. “It must be because I am turning 
into an elf,” said he. “This is probably why I understand 
bird-talk.” 

He thought it unbearable that the hens would not stop saying 

4l6 


THROUGH FAIRY HALLS 

that it served him right. He threw a stone at them and shouted, 
“Shut up, you pack!” 

But it hadn’t occurred to him before that he was no longer 
the sort of boy the hens fear. The whole henyard made a rush 
at him, and formed a ring around him; then they all cried at 
once: “Ka, ka, kada, served you right! Ka, ka, kada, served 
you right!” 

The boy tried to get away, but the chickens ran after him and 
screamed until he thought he’d lose his hearing. It is more than 
likely that he never could have got away from them if the house 
cat hadn’t come along just then. As soon as the chickens saw 
the cat, they quieted down and pretended to be thinking of 
nothing else than just to scratch in the earth for worms. 

Immediately the boy ran up to the cat. “You dear pussy!” 
he said, “you must know all the comers and hiding-places here- 



? 


MY BOOK HOUSE 


about! You’ll be a good little kitty and tell me where I can 
find the elf.” 

The cat did not reply at once. He sat down leisurely, curled 
his tail into a graceful ring around his paws — and stared at the 
boy. It was a large black cat with one white spot on the chest. 
His fur lay sleek and soft, and shone in the sunlight. The claws 
were drawn in, and the eyes were a dull gray, with just a little 
narrow dark streak down the centre. The cat looked thoroughly 
good-natured. 

“I know well enough where the elf lives,” he said in a soft 
voice, “but that doesn’t say that I’m going to tell you about it.” 

“Dear pussy, you must tell me where the elf lives!” pleaded 
the boy. “Can’t you see how he has bewitched me?” 

The cat opened his eyes a little, so that the green wickedness 
began to shine forth. He spun round and purred with satis- 
faction before he replied. “Shall I perhaps help you because 
you have so often grabbed me by the tail?” he said at last. 

Then the boy was furious and forgot entirely how little and 
helpless he was now. “Oh! I can pull your tail again, I can,” 
said he, and ran toward the cat. 

The next instant the cat was so changed that the boy could 
scarcely believe it was the same animal. Every separate hair 
on his body stood on end. The back was bent; the legs had 
become elongated; the claws scraped the ground; the tail had 
grown thick and short; the ears were laid back; the mouth was 
frothy; the eyes were wide open and glistened like sparks of red 
fire. 

The boy didn’t want to let himself be scared by a cat, so he 
took a step forward. Then the cat made one spring and landed 
right on the boy, knocked him down and stood over him— his 
forepaws on his chest, his jaws wide apart over his throat. 

The boy felt how the sharp claws sank through his vest and 
418 


THROUGH FAIRY HALLS 

shirt into his skin; and how the sharp eyeteeth tickled his throat. 
He shrieked for help as loudly as he could, but no one came. 
He thought surely that his last hour had come. Then he felt 
that the cat drew in his claws and let go the hold on his throat. 

“There!” he said, “that will do for now. I’ll let you go this 
time, for my mistress’s sake. I only wanted you to know which 
one of us two had the power now.” 

With that the cat walked away, looking as smooth and pious 
as when he first appeared on the scene. The boy was so crest- 
fallen that he couldn’t say a word, but only hurried to the cow- 
house to look for the elf. 

There were not more than three cows, all told. But when the 
boy came in, there was such a bellowing and such a kick-up, that 
one might easily have believed there were at least thirty. 

“Moo, moo, moo,” bellowed Mayrose. “It is well there is 
such a thing as justice in this world.” 

“Moo, moo, moo,” sang the three of them in unison. He 
couldn’t hear what they said, for each tried to out-bellow the 
others. 

The boy wanted to ask after the elf, but he couldn’t make 
himself heard because the cows were in full uproar. They carried 
on as they used to when he would let a strange dog in on them. 
They kicked with their hind legs, shook their flanks, stretched 
their heads, and measured the distance with their horns. 

“Come here, you!” said Mayrose, “and you’ll get a kick 
that you won’t forget in a hurry!” 

“Come here,” said Gold Lily, “and you shall dance on my 
horns!” 

“Come here, and you shall taste how it felt when you threw 
your wooden shoes at me, as you did last summer!” bawled Star. 

“Come here, and you shall be repaid for that wasp you let 
loose in my ear!” growled Gold Lily. 


419 


MY BOOK HOUSE 


Mayrose was the oldest and wisest among them, and she was 
the very maddest. “Come here!” she said, “that I may pay 
you back for the many times that you have jerked the milk pail 
away from your mother, and for all the snares you laid for her 
when she came carrying the milk pails and for all the tears which 
she has stood here and wept over you!” 

The boy wanted to tell them how much he regretted that 
he had been unkind to them; and that never, never, from now 
on, should he be anything but good, if they would only tell him 
where the elf was. But the cows didn’t listen to him. They 
made such a racket that he began to fear one of them would 
succeed in breaking loose; so he thought that the best thing for 
him to do, was to go quietly away from the cowhouse. 

When he came out again he was thoroughly disheartened. 
He could understand that no one on the place wanted to help him 
find the elf. And little good would it do him, probably, if the 
elf were found! 

He crawled up on the broad hedge which fenced in the farm, 
and which was overgrown with brier and lichen. There he sat 
to ponder how it would go with him were he never again to become 
a human being. When father and mother get back from church, 
there would be a surprise for them. Yes, a surprise— it would 
be all over the land; and people would come flocking from East 
Vemmenhog, and from Torp, and from Skerup. The whole 
Vemmenhog Parish would come to stare at him. Perhaps father 
and mother would take him along to Kivik, and show him at. 
the market-place. 

No, that was too horrible to think about. He would rather 
that no human being should ever see him again. 

His unhappiness was simply frightful ! No one in all the world 
was so unhappy as he. He was no longer a human being — but 
a freak. 


420 


THROUGH FAIRY HALLS 



Little by little he began to comprehend what it meant — 
to be no longer human. He was separated from everything now; 
he could no longer play with other boys. 

He sat and looked at his home. It was a little log house, 
which lay as if crushed down to earth, under the high, sloping 
roof. The outhouses were also small; and the patches of tilled 
ground were so narrow that a horse could barely turn around 
on them. But little and poor though the place was, it was much 
too good for him now. He couldn’t hope for a better home than 
a hole under the stable floor. 

It was wonderously beautiful weather! It budded, and it 
rippled, and it murmured, and it twittered— all around him. 
But he sat there with such a heavy sorrow. He should never 
be happy any more about anything. 

And that is the way the adventures of Nils began. Far out 
into the world he had to go and he travelled far and he travelled 
wide before he saw his mother and father and found the elf again. 
And all through his long, long journey little he stayed until he 
grew big. But what is the secret of that I leave you to guess. 


421 





MY BOOK HOUSE 


LITTLE DIAMOND AND THE NORTH WIND* 
George MacDonald 

HAVE been asked to tell you about the back of 
the North Wind. I am going to tell you how it 
fared with a boy who went there. He lived in a 
low room over a coach-house. Indeed, I am not 
sure whether I ought to call it a room; for it was 
just aloft were they kept hay and straw and oats for the horses. 
And when little Diamond — but stop I must tell you that his father 
who was a coachman, had named him after a favorite horse, 
— when little Diamond, then, lay there in bed, he could hear the 
horses under him munching away in the dark, or moving sleep- 
ily in their dreams. For Diamond’s father had built him a bed 
in the loft with boards all round it, because they had so little 
room in their own end over the coach-house. 

There was hay at his feet and hay at his head, piled up in 
great trusses to the very roof. Indeed it was sometimes only 
through a little lane with several turnings, which looked as if 
it had been sawed out for him, that he could reach his bed at all. 
Sometimes, when his mother had undressed him in her room 
and told him to trot away to bed by himself, he would creep 
into the heart of the hay, and lie there thinking how cold it was 
outside in the wind, and how warm it was inside there in his 
bed, and how he could go to it when he pleased, only he wouldn’t 
just yet; he would get a little colder first. And ever as he grew 
colder, his bed would grow warmer, till at last he would scramble 
out of the hay, shoot like an arrow into his bed, cover himself 
up, and snuggle down, thinking what a happy boy he was. He 
had not the least idea that the wind got in at a chink in the wall, 
and blew about him all night. For the back of his bed was 
only boards an inch thick, and on the other side of them was 
the north wind. 



★From At the Back of the North Wind. 
422 


THROUGH FAIRY HALLS 

Now, as I have already said, these boards were soft and crum- 
bly. Hence it happened that the soft part having worn away 
from about it, little Diamond found one night, after he lay down, 
that a knot had come out of one of them, and that the wind was 
blowing in upon him in a cold and rather imperious fashion. 
Now he had no fancy for leaving things wrong that might be 
set right; so he jumped out of bed again, got a little strike of hay, 
twisted it up, folded it in the middle, and, having thus made 
it into a cork, stuck it into the hole in the wall. But the wind 
began to blow loud and angrily, and, as Diamond was falling 
asleep, out blew his cork and hit him on the nose, just hard 
enough to wake him up quite, and let him hear the wind whist- 
ling shrill in the hole. He searched for his hay-cork, found it, 
stuck it in harder, and was just dropping off once more, when, 
pop! with an angry whistle behind it, the cork struck him again, 
this time on the cheek. Up he rose once more, made a fresh 
stopple of hay, and corked the hole severely. But he was hardly 
down again before— pop! it came on his forehead. He gave 
it up, drew the clothes above his head, and was soon fast asleep. 

Although the next day was very stormy, Diamond forgot 
all about the hole. His mother, however, discovered it, and 
pasted a bit of brown paper over it, so when Diamond 
snuggled down the next night, he had no occasion to think of it. 

Presently, however, he lifted his head and listened. Who 
could that be talking to him? The wind was rising again, and 
getting very loud, and full of rushes and whistles. He was sure 
some one was talking — and very near him too it was. But he 
was not frightened; so he sat up and hearkened. At last the 
voice, which, though quite gentle, sounded a little angry, appeared 
to come from the back of the bed. He crept nearer to it, and 
laid his ear against the wall. Then he heard nothing but the 
wind, which sounded very loud indeed. The moment, however, 

423 


MY BOOK HOUSE 

that he moved his head from the wall, he 
heard the voice again close to his ear. He 
felt about with his hand, and came upon 
the piece of paper his mother had pasted 
over the hole. Against this he laid his ear, 
and then he heard the voice quite distinctly. 
There was, in fact, a little comer of the 
paper loose, and through that, as from a 
mouth in the wall, the voice came. 

“What do you mean, little boy— closing up my window?” 

“What window?” asked Diamond. 

“You stuffed hay into it three times last night. I had to 
blow it out again three times.” 

“You can’t mean this little hole! It isn’t a window; it’s 
a hole in my bed.” 

“I did not say it was a window. I said it was my window.” 

“But it can’t be a window, because windows are holes to 
see out of.” 

“Well, that’s just what I made this window for.” 

“But you are outside; you can’t want a window.” 

“You are quite mistaken. Windows are to see out of, you 
say. Well, I’m in my house, and I want windows to see out of it.” 

“But you’ve made a window into my bed.” 

“Well, your mother has got three windows into my danc- 
ing room, and you have three into my garret. Just open this 
window.” 

“Mother says I shouldn’t be disobliging; but it’s rather hard. 
You see the north wind will blow right in my face if I do.” 

“I am the North Wind.” 

“O-o-oh!” said Diamond, thoughtfully. “Then will you 
promise not to blow on my face if I open your window?” 

“You shall not be the worse for it— I promise you that.” 



424 


THROUGH 


FAIRY HALLS 


“You shall not be the worse for it — I promise you that.” 
“Well, I can pull the clothes over my head,” said Diamond 
and feeling with his little sharp nails, he got hold of the open 
edge of the paper and tore it off at once. 

















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425 


MY BOOK HOUSE 

naked chest. He scrambled and tumbled in under the bedclothes, 
and covered himself up; there was no paper now between him 
and the voice, and he felt a little— not frightened exactly— but 
rather queer; for what a strange person this North Wind must 
be that lived in the great house— “called Out-of-Doors, I sup- 
pose,” thought Diamond— and made windows into people’s 
beds! But the voice began again; and he could hear it quite 
plainly, even with his head under the bedclothes. 

“What is your name, little boy?” it asked. 

“Diamond,” answered Diamond, under the bedclothes. 

“What a funny name!” 

“Diamond is a very pretty name,” persisted the boy, vexed 
that it should not give satisfaction. “Diamond is a great and 
good horse ; and he sleeps right under me. He’s Old Diamond, and 
I’m Young Diamond; or, if you like it better, for you’re very 
particular, Mr. North Wind, he’s Big Diamond, and I’m Little 
Diamond; and I don’t know which of us my father likes best.” 

A beautiful laugh, large but very soft and musical, sounded 
somewhere beside him, but Diamond kept his head under the 
clothes. 

“I’m not Mr. North Wind,” said the voice. 

“You told me that you were the North Wind,” insisted Dia- 
mond. 

“I did not say Mister North Wind,” said the voice. 

“Well, then, I do; for mother tells me I ought to be polite.” 

“Then let me tell you I don’t think it at all polite of you to 
say Mister to me. You can’t say it’s polite to lie there talk- 
ing— with your head under the bedclothes, and never look up 
to see what kind of person you are talking to. I want you to 
come out with me.” 

“I want to go to sleep,” said Diamond, very nearly crying. 

“You shall sleep all the better to-morrow night. Will you 
426 


THROUGH FAIRY HALLS 


take your head out of the bedclothes?” said the voice. 

“No!” answered Diamond, half peevish, half frightened. 

The instant he said the word, a tremendous blast of wind 
crashed in a board of the wall, and swept the clothes off Dia- 
mond. He started up in terror. Leaning over him was the 
large, beautiful, pale face of a woman. Her dark eyes looked 
a little angry, for they had just begun to flash; but a quivering 
in her sweet upper lip made her look as if she were going to cry. 
What was the most strange was that away from her head 
streamed out her black hair in every direction, so that the dark- 
ness in the hayloft looked as if it were made of her hair; but as 
Diamond gazed at her in speechless amazement, mingled with 
confidence — for the boy was entranced with her mighty beauty 
— her hair began to gather itself out of the darkness, and fell 
down all about her again, till her face looked out of the midst 
of it like a moon out of a cloud. From her eyes came all the 
light by which Diamond saw* her face and her hair; and that was 
all he did see of her yet. The wind was over and gone. 

“Will you go with me now, you little Diamond? I am sorry 
I was forced to be so rough with you,” said the lady. 

“I will; yes, I will,” answered Diamond, holding out both 
his arms. “Please, North Wind, you are so beautiful, I am 
quite ready to go with you.” 

“You must not be ready to go with everything beautiful all 
at once, Diamond.” 

“But what’s beautiful can’t be bad. I will go with you 
because you are beautiful and good, too.” 

“Ah, but there’s another thing, Diamond:— What if I should 
look ugly without being bad— look ugly myself because I am 
making ugly things beautiful? What then?” 

“I don’t quite understand you, North Wind. You tell me 
what then.” 

427 


MY BOOK HOUSE 



, . te ‘l y° u - If you see me with my face all black, 

don t be frightened. If you see me flapping wings like a bat’s, 
as big as the whole sky don’t be frightened. If you hear me 
raging ten times worse than Mrs. Bill, the blacksmith’s wife 
—even if you see me looking in at people’s windows like Mrs. 
Eve Dropper, the gardener's wife — you must believe that I am 
doing my work. Nay, Diamond, if I change into a serpent or 
a tiger, you must not let go your hold of me, for my hand will 
never’ change in yours if you keep a good hold. If you keep a 
hold, you will know who I am all the time, even when you look 
at me and can’t see me the least like the North Wind. I may 
look something very awful. Do you understand?” 

“Quite well,” said little Diamond. 

“Come along, then,” said North Wind, and disappeared 
behind the mountain of hay. 

Diamond crept out of bed and followed her. 

North Wind laughed merrily, and went tripping on faster. 
Her grassy robe swept and swirled about her steps, and wher- 
ever it passed over withered leaves, they went fleeing and whirl- 
ing in spirals, and running on their edges like wheels, all about 
her feet. They were now climbing the slope of a grassy ascent 
It was Primrose Hill, in fact, although Diamond had never heard 
of it. The moment they reached the top, North Wind stood 
and turned her face towards London. The stars were still shin- 


428 


THROUGH FAIRY HALLS 

ing clear and cold overhead. There was not a cloud to be seen. 
The air was sharp, but Diamond did not find it cold. 

“Now,” said the lady, “whatever you do, do not let my 
hand go.” And as she stood looking towards London, Diamond 
saw that she was trembling. 

“Are you cold, North Wind?” he asked. 

“No, Diamond,” she answered, looking down upon him with 
a smile; “I am only getting ready to sweep one of my rooms. 
Those careless, greedy, untidy children make it in such a mess.” 

As she spoke he could have told by her voice, if he had not 
seen with his eyes, that she was growing larger and larger. Her 
head went up and up towards the stars; and as she grew, still 
trembling through all her body, her hair also grew — longer and 
longer, and lifted itself from her head, and went out in black 
waves. The next moment, however, it fell back around her, 
and she grew less and less till she was only a tall woman. Then 
she put her hands behind her head, and gathered some of her 
hair, and began weaving and knotting it together. When she 
had done, she bent down her beautiful face close to his, and said: 

“Diamond, I am afraid you would not keep hold of me, and 
if I were to drop you, I don’t know what might happen; so I 
have been making a place for you in my hair. Come.” 

Diamond held out his arms, for with that grand face looking 
at him, he believed like a baby. She took him in her hands, 
threw him over her shoulder, and said, “Get in, Diamond.” 

And Diamond parted her hair with his hands, crept between, 
and, feeling about, soon found the woven nest. It was just like 
a pocket, or like the shawl in which gipsy women carry their 
children. North Wind put her hands to her back, felt all about 
the nest, and finding it safe, said: 

“Are you comfortable, Diamond?” 

“Yes, indeed,” answered Diamond. 


429 


my book house 

The next moment he was rising in the air. North Wind 
grew towering up to the place of the clouds. Her hair went 
streaming out from her, till it spread like a mist over the stars. 
She flung herself abroad in space. 

Diamond held on by two of the twisted ropes which, parted 
and interwoven, formed his shelter, for he could not help being 
a little afraid. As soon as he had come to himself, he peeped 
through the woven meshes, for he did not dare to look over the 
top of the nest. The earth was rushing past like a river or a 
sea below him. Trees, and water, and green grass hurried away 
beneath. Chimney-pots fell, and tiles flew from the roofs. There 
was a great roaring, for the wind was dashing against London 
like a sea; but at North Wind’s back Diamond, of course, felt 
nothing of it all. He was in a perfect calm. He could hear the 
sound of it, that was all. 

By and by he raised himself and looked over the edge of his 
nest. There were the houses rushing up and shooting away 
below him, like a fierce torrent of rocks instead of water. Then 
he looked up to the sky, but could see no stars; they were hid- 
den by the blinding masses of the lady’s hair which swept between. 
He began to wonder whether she would hear him if he spoke. 
He would try. 

“Please, North Wind,” he said, “what is that noise?” 

From high over his head came the voice of North Wind, 
answering him gently: 

“The noise of my besom. I am the old woman that sweeps 
the cobwebs from the sky; only I’m busy with the floor now.” 

“What makes the houses look as if they were running away?” 

“I am sweeping so fast over them.” 

“But, please, North Wind, I knew London was very big, 
but I didn’t know it was so big as this. It seems as if we should 
never get away from it.” 


430 


THROUGH FAIRY HALLS 


“We are going round and round, else we should have left 
it long ago.” 

“Please, would you mind going a little slower, for I want 
to see the streets?” 

“You won’t see much now.” 

“Why?” 

“Because I have nearly swept all the people home.” 

But she dropped a little towards the roofs of the houses, 
and Diamond could see down into the streets. There were 
very few people about, though. The lamps flickered and flared 
again, but nobody seemed to want them. 

Suddenly Diamond espied a little girl coming along a street. 
She was dreadfully blown by the wind, and a broom she was 
tr ailin g behind her was very troublesome. It seemed as if the 
wind had a spite at her — it kept worrying her like a wild beast, 
and tearing at her rags. She was so lonely there! 

“Oh! please, North Wind,” he cried, “won’t you help that 
little girl?” 

“No, Diamond; I mustn’t leave my work.” 

“But why shouldn’t you be kind to her?” 

“I am kind to her; I am sweeping the wicked smells away.” 

“ But you’re kinder to me, dear North Wind. Why shouldn’t 
you be as kind to her as you are to me?” 

“There are reasons, Diamond. Everybody can’t be done 
to all the same. Everybody is not ready for the same thing.” 

“But I don’t see why I should be kinder used than she.” 

“Do you think nothing’s to be done but what you can see, 
Diamond, you silly! It’s all right. Of course you can help 
her if you like. You’ve got nothing particular to do at this 
moment; I have.” 

“Oh! do let me help her, then. But you won’t be able to 
wait, perhaps?” 

431 


MY BOOK HOUSE 



“No, I can’t wait; you must do it yourself.” 

“I want to go,” said Diamond. “Only there’s just one 
thing — how am I to get home?” 

“Well, though I cannot promise to take you home,” said 
North Wind, as she sank nearer and nearer to the tops of the 
houses, “ I can promise you will get home somehow. Have you 
made up your mind what to do?” 

“Yes; to help the little girl,” said Diamond firmly. 

The same moment North Wind dropped into the street and 
stood, only a tall lady, but with her hair flying up over the house- 
tops. She put her hands to her back, took Diamond, and set 
him down in the street. The same moment he was caught in 
the fierce coils of the blast, and all but blown away. North 
Wind stepped back a pace, and at once towered in stature to the 
height Of the houses. A chimney-pot clashed at Diamond’s 
feet. He turned in terror, but it was to look for the little girl, 
and when he turned again the lady had vanished, and the wind 
was roaring along the street as if it had been the bed of an invis- 
ible torrent. The little girl was scudding before the blast, her 
hair flying too, and behind her she dragged her broom. Her 
little legs were going as fast as ever they could to keep her from 
falling. Diamond crept into the shelter of a doorway, thinking 
to stop her; but she passed him like a bird, crying pitifully. 

“Stop! little girl,” shouted Diamond, starting in pursuit. 

“I can’t,” wailed the girl; “the wind won’t leave go of me.” 


432 


THROUGH FAIRY HALLS 


Diamond could run faster than she, and he had no broom. 
In a few moments he had caught her by the frock. But it tore 
in his hand, and away went the little girl. So he had to run 
again, and this time he ran so fast that he got before her, and 
turning round caught her in his arms, when down they went both 
together, which made the little girl laugh in the midst of her crying. 

“Where are you going?’’ asked Diamond, rubbing the elbow 
that had stuck farthest out. The arm it belonged to was twined 
round a lamp-post as he stood between the little girl and the wind. 

“Home,” she said, gasping for breath. 

“Then I will go with you,” said Diamond. 

And then they were silent for a while, for the wind blew worse 
than ever, and they had both to hold on to the lamp-post. 

“Where is your crossing?” asked the girl at length. 

“I don’t sweep,” answered Diamond. 

“What do you do, then?” asked she. “You ain’t big enough 
for most things.” 

“I don’t know what I do do,” answered he, feeling rather 
ashamed. “Nothing, I suppose. My father’s Mr. Coleman’s 
coachman.” 

“Have you a father?” she said, staring at him as if a boy 
with a father was a natural curiosity. 

“Yes. Haven’t you?” returned Diamond. 

“No; nor mother neither. Old Sal’s all I’ve got.” And 
she began to cry again. “If she was my mother, she wouldn’t 
lie abed and laugh to hear me crying at the door.” 

“You don’t mean she won’t let you in to-night?” 

“It’ll be a good chance if she does.” 

“Why are you out so late, then?” asked Diamond. 

“My crossing’s a long way off at the West End.” 

“We’d better have a try anyhow. Come along. You lead 
me,” said Diamond, taking her hand, “and I’ll take care of you.” 

433 


MY BOOK HOUSE 


The girl withdrew her hand, but only to dry her eyes with 
her frock, for the other had enough to do with her broom. She 
put it in his again, and led him, turning after turning, until they 
stopped at a cellar-door in a very dirty lane. There she knocked. 

“I shouldn’t like to live here,” said Diamond. 

“Oh, yes, you would, if you had nowheres else to go to,” 
answered the girl. “I only wish we may get in.” 

“I don’t want to go in,” said Diamond. 

“Where do you mean to go, then?” 

“Home to my home.” 

“Where’s that?” 

“I don’t exactly know.” 

“Then you’re worse off than I am.” 

“Oh no, for North Wind — ” began Diamond, and stopped, 
he hardly knew why. 

“ What?” said the girl, as she held her ear to the door listening. 

But Diamond did not reply. Neither did old Sal. 

“I told you so,” said the girl. “She is wide awake hearken- 
ing. But we don’t get in.” 

“What will you do, then?” asked Diamond. 

“Move on,” she answered. 

“Where?” 

“Oh, anywheres. Bless you, I’m used to it.” 

“Hadn’t you better come home with me, then?” 

“That’s a good joke, when you don’t know where it is. 
Come on.” 

“But where?” 

“Oh, nowheres in particular. Come on.” 

Diamond obeyed. The wind had now fallen considerably. 
They wandered on and on, turning in this direction and that, 
without any reason for one way more than another, until they 
had got out of the thick of the houses into a waste kind of place. 


434 


THROUGH FAIRY HALLS 

By this time they were both very tired. Diamond felt a good 
deal inclined to cry, and thought he had been very silly to get 
down from the back of the North Wind; not that he would have 
minded it if he had done the girl any good; but he thought he 
had been of no use to her. He was mistaken there, for she was 
far happier for having Diamond with her than if she had been 
wandering about alone. She did not seem so tired as he was. 

“Do let us rest a bit,” said Diamond. 

“Let’s see,” she answered. “There’s something like a rail- 
way there. Perhaps there’s an open arch.” 

They went towards it and found one, and, better still, there 
was an empty barrel lying under the arch. 

“Hello! here we are!” said the girl. “A barrel’s the jolliest 
bed going — on the tramp, I mean. We’ll have forty winks, 
and then go on again.” 

She crept in, and Diamond crept in beside her. They put 
their arms round each other, and when he began to grow warm 
Diamond’s courage began to come back. 

“This is jolly!” he said. “I’m so glad!” 

“I don’t think so much of it,” said the girl. "I’m used to 
it, I suppose. But I can’t think how a kid like you comes to 
be out all alone this time o’ the night.” 

She called him a kid, but she was not really a month older 



43S 


MY BOOK HOUSE 

than he was; only she had had to work for her bread, and that 
so soon makes people older. 

“But I shouldn’t have been out so late if I hadn’t got down 
to help you,” said Diamond. “ North Wind is gone home long ago.” 

“You said something about the north wind afore that I 
couldn’t get the rights of.” 

So now, for the sake of his character, Diamond had to tell 
her the whole story. 

She did not believe a word of it. She said she wasn’t such 
a flat as to believe all that bosh. But as she spoke there came 
a great blast of wind through the arch, and set the barrel roll- 
ing. So they made haste to get out of it, for they had no notion 
of being rolled over and over as if they had been packed tight 
and wouldn’t hurt, like a barrel of herrings. 

“I thought we should have had a sleep,” said Diamond; 
“but I can’t say I’m very sleepy after all. Let’s go on again.” 

They wandered on and on, sometimes sitting on a door-step, 
but always turning into lanes or fields when they had a chance. 

They found themselves at last on a rising ground that sloped 
rather steeply on the other side. It was a waste kind of spot 
below, bounded by an irregular wall, with a few doors in it. Out- 
side lay broken things in general, from garden rollers to flower- 
pots and wine-bottles. But the moment they reached the brow 
of the rising ground, a gust of wind seized them and blew them 
down hill as fast as they could run. Nor could Diamond stop 
before he went bang against one of the doors in the wall. To 
his dismay it burst open. When they came to themselves they 
peeped in. It was the back door of a garden. 

“Ah, ah!” cried Diamond, after staring for a few moments 
“I thought so! North Wind takes nobody in! Here I am in 
master’s garden! I tell you what, little girl, you just bore a hole 
in old Sal’s wall, put your mouth to it, and say, ‘Please, North 

436 


THROUGH FAIRY HALLS 


Wind, mayn’t I go out with you?’ Then you’ll see what’ll come.” 

“ I daresay I shall. But I’m out in the wind too often already 
to want more of it.” 

“I said with the North Wind, not in it.” 

‘‘It’s all one.” 

“It’s not all one.” 

“It is all one.” 

“But I know best.” 

“And I know better. I’ll box your ears,” said the girl. 

Diamond got very angry. But he remembered that even 
if she did box his ears, he mustn’t box hers again, for she was 
a girl, and all that boys must do, if girls are rude, is to go away 
and leave them. So he went in at the door. 

“Good-bye, mister,” said the girl. 

This brought Diamond to his senses. 

“I’m sorry I was cross,” he said. “Come in, and my mother 
will give you some breakfast.” 

“No, thank you. I must be off to my crossing. It’s morn- 
ing now.” 

“I’m very sorry for you,” said Diamond. 

“Well, it is a life to be tired of— what with old Sal, and so 
many holes in my shoes. When I think of it, though, I always 
want to see what’s coming next. Good-bye!” 

She ran up the hill and disappeared behind it. Then Dia- 
mond shut the door as he best could, and ran through the kit- 
chen-garden to the stable. And wasn’t he glad to get into his 
own blessed bed again! 



437 


MY BOOK HOUSE 



THE RENOWNED AND WORLD-FAMOUS ADVENTURES 
OF PUNCH AND JUDY 

“Ladies and gentlemen, pray how you do? 

If you all happy, me all happy too. 

Stop and hear my merry little play. 

If me make you laugh, me need not make you pay! 

Squeak! Sque-eak!” Here’s old Mr. Punch again, with his 
great hooked nose, and his hooked chin, and his peaked cap, 
and his fat stomach and his slender little legs and his smile, smile, 
smile! Old Mr. Punch and his wife, Judy, and the baby who is 
always being thrown out of the window, and Toby, the dog, and 
the hobby horse and all the rest of the well known, widely travelled 
and world-famous performers in the puppet show. 

There’s hardly a comer of the world Punch and Judy haven’t 
visited, and they’ve been sending men, women and children into 
gales of laughter from Boston to Paris, from China to Peru, for 
nobody-knows-how-many hundreds of years. So you see Punch 
and Judy are people of renown. 

A hundred years ago, in any great city of Europe or America 
one might have seen set up in some public place, a little movable 

438 


THROUGH FAIRY HALLS 


box of a theatre in which all the actors were wooden dolls — 
puppets or marionettes, as they are called. Sometimes these 
puppets were made to move about and go through the action 
of the play by means of wires attached to their heads; sometimes 
the man who gave the show stood inside a box below the little 
stage and wore Punch and Judy on his hands, which were covered 
from sight by the clothes of the puppets. He would use his 
thumb and middle finger to move the arms and his forefinger 
for the head. Then Mr. Punch, and Mrs. Judy, and the baby, 
and the hobby horse, and the distinguished foreign gentlemen 
who couldn’t speak English, and the rest would go through their 
parts with much spirit, while the show-man made up the words 
they were supposed to speak to each other, as the play went on. 

Some of the puppet shows in London remained always in 
one place and were so loved by the people that real actors and 
singers at the opera complained because their play houses were 
empty while everybody crowded to see the puppet shows. There 
was even one droll show-man who trained a little pig to dance 
with Mr. Punch and squeak as if he were singing in imitation 
of one of the great Italian opera singers of the day. 

Other puppet shows, instead of remaining always in one 
place, were carried about, both in town and in the country, on 
the backs of strolling showmen. These were particularly popular 
at country fairs, where they drew great crowds of merry, laughter- 
loving people. One man would carry the theatre 
itself on his back, and the other the box in 
which the puppets were packed. The first man 
would blow a little tin whistle and the second 
a trumpet to attract people’s attention, and , 
wherever they found a crowd gathered together 1 
or saw signs of interest, they set up their 
theatre and gave a performance. As soon 's&ZSK 



439 



MY BOOK HOUSE 


Mr. Punch showed his ridiculous hooked nose between the 
curtains and gave the squeak that always announces his 
appearances, the people begah to laugh, and they never left off 
laughing till the show was over. One of the men would pass 
about among the on-lookers and collect pennies during the play, 
and then off they would go to find another crowd. 

The puppet shows came to England from Italy, but long, 
long, before that time, in the year 1000 B. C. or thereabouts, it 
is said that a puppet show-man gave a performance before the 
Emperor of China. That august gentleman had never heard of 
a puppet show and he thought that the dolls must be live men 
who dared to make faces at him. At last, becoming angry at 
their grimaces, he ordered all their heads off! The show-man 
with great difficulty was able to persuade the emperor that the 
actors were only dolls, whereupon, not only did he escape 
punishment, but was rewarded for his cleverness by being made 
official puppet show-man of the Chinese Empire. 

Since Mr. Punch first appeared in the world the story about 
him has been little changed, although it was part of the show- 
man’s business to make up new fines for the characters to 
speak as the play went on. Mr. Punch has been from the begin- 
ning and still is, the most ridiculous, absurd, impossible old rascal 
and villain in the world! He beats his wife, lays everybody else 
out with his stick, and flings his baby out the window quite un- 
concerned about it all, ever smiling, ever dancing and singing, 
without a pang of sorrow or regret. In the end he comes off 
victorious and conquers all his enemies without ever once being 
punished for his sins! 

Once a very serious-minded show-man was so disturbed at 
Punch’s always coming off victorious in spite of his evil deeds, 
that he made bold to change the ending of the play, and have 
Punch meet his just punishment, but O me! and O my! the 


440 


through fairy halls 

crowd round about wouldn’t have it— not at all. They pelted 
the poor man and his show with mud and drove him away. 

So you see we shall have to take Mr. Punch just as he is 
and for what he is — a joke, not a real man at all, but a delight- 
fully droll and absurd wooden puppet. 

This is the Punch and Judy show as it has been given with 
slight variations for hundreds of years. 

As the curtains are drawn back Mr. Punch is heard singing 
down below the stage, 

“I dreamt that I dwelt in marble halls 
With vassals and serfs by my si-hi-hidel" 

All of a sudden up he pops like a jack-in-the-box, calling for 
his wife Judy. Instead of Judy, in comes the little dog Toby. 

Punch says, “Hello, Toby! Who called you? How you do, 
Mr. Toby? Hope you very well, Mr. Toby.” 

“Bow, wow, wow!” says Toby. 

“I’m glad to hear it, Toby! What a nice good dog you are! 
Good Toby! Good Toby!” 

At that Toby snarls, “Arr-rr! Arr-rr!” 

“What, Toby, you cross this morning? You get out of bed 
the wrong way upwards?” 

“Arr-rr! Arr-rr,” answers Toby. 

Punch puts out his hand cautiously to coax the dog. “Good 
doggie! Good doggie. Be a good doggie and me give you some 
pail of water and a broomstick for supper!” Toby snaps at his 
hand. “Toby, you’re one bad dog! Get away with you!” and 
he strikes at the dog with his stick. Just at that moment 
Mr. Scaramouch, the owner of the dog, rises from below 
the stage and Biff! he receives the blow intended for Toby on 
his head. 

“Ow-wow!” squeals Mr. Scaramouch, “I shall make you pay 
for my head, sir !” 


441 


M Y 


BOOK HOUSE 

“And I shall make you pay for my stick, sir!” 

“I haven’t broken your stick!” 

“And I haven’t broken your head!” 

“You have, sir!” 

“Then it must have been cracked before!” 

“Hello,” cries Mr. Scaramouch, spying Toby, 

“why, that’s my dog, Toby. Toby, old fellow, how are you?” 
Toby barks. 

“He isn’t your dog!” cries Punch. 

“He is!” 

“No, he isn’t.” 

“He is, I tell you! A fortnight ago 1 lost him!” 

“And a fortnight ago I found him!” 

“We’ll soon see whether he belongs to you!” shouts Mr. Scara- 
mouch. “You shall go up to him and say, ‘Toby, poor little 
fellow, how are you?’” 

“Very good!” agrees Mr. Punch, and he goes up to Toby, 
saying, “Toby, poor little fellow, how are you?” Toby snaps 
at Punch’s nose. 

“There you see that shows the dog is mine!” yells Scaramouch. 

“No!” cries Punch, “it shows he’s mine!” 

“If he’s yours, why does he bite you?” 

“He bites me because he likes me!” 

“Nonsense!” cries Scaramouch. “We’ll soon settle which of 
us the dog belongs to. We’ll fight for him. Now don’t you 
begin till I say ‘Time!’ ” 

Punch knocks Mr. Scaramouch down and Scaramouch howls, 
“That wasn’t fair!” 

“It was fair!” cries Punch, “I didn’t hit till you cried ‘Time.’ ” 

“I never did!” goes on Mr. Scaramouch. “I only said, ‘Don’t 
begin till I say ‘Time.’ ” Punch knocks him down a second 
time. “There you said it again!” 

442 




THROUGH FAIRY HALLS 



Scaramouch roars, “Toby, come help your master.” The 
dog springs forward. Seeing this Punch begins to squeal, “No, 
no! Call off the dog! It Isn’t fair! You didn’t say ‘Time’ ! ” 
Toby barks furiously and seizes Punch by the nose. 

“Oh dear! Oh dear! ” squeaks Punch, “My nose! my poor 
nose! my pretty little nose, my beautiful nose!” He tries to 
shake off the dog, but Toby still clings to his nose as he dances 
wildly around the stage. “Murder! Fire! Thieves! Call off 
your dog!” 

“Very well,” says Mr. Scaramouch, “come along, Toby!” 

Toby lets go and the two leave the stage. 

“I wouldn’t have that dog as a gift,” says Punch, nursing his 
nose and calling once again for Judy. 

Judy comes in in a frilled cap with a hooked nose and hooked 
chin, just as ugly as Mr. Punch. “Well, what do you want 
now I’ve come?” says she. 


443 


MY BOOK HOUSE 

“Ah,” says Punch in a wheedling tone, "what a pretty little 
creature! Ain’t she one beauty? Why, I want to dance with 
you, my duckie!” They dance. At the conclusion of the dance 
Punch hits Judy over the head with his stick. 

“You villain,” cries Judy, “how dare you strike me? Take 
that!” and she slaps him in the face. 

“Ah,” says Punch stroking his cheek, “she is always so play- 
ful! Bring me the child, Judy! Bring me the child!” 

Judy goes and brings back the baby which she leaves with 
Punch. He dandles the child in his arms and sings: 

“Dancy baby diddy; 

What shall daddy do widdy? 

Sit on his lap, 

Give it some pap; 

Dancy, baby, diddy.” 

“What a pretty baby it is,” he croons, “little duck! Never 
was such a good child!” 

The Baby cries, “Mama-a-a-a!” 

Punch thumps the child with his stick. 

“Go to sleep, my pretty!” he cries. 

Baby cries louder, “Mama-a-a-a!” 

Punch whacks him harder still, singing, “Hush-a-bye! Hush! 
Hush! Hush-sh-sh!” 

Baby yells “Ya-a-ah!” and catches hold of Punch’s nose. 

“Murder! Let go!” howls Punch. “Go to your mother, 
darling,”— and Biff! he throws the baby out the window. Then 
he sings, smiling and unconcerned: 

“I dreamt that I dwelt in marble halls. 

With vassals and serfs by my si-hi-hide!" 

At that, in comes Judy. 

“Where’s the boy?” she cries. 

“Why, didn’t you catch him?” asks Punch. 

“Catch him?” says Judy, “What have you done with him?” 


444 


THROUGH FAIRY HALLS 

“Oh,” cries Punch, “I just threw him out the window! 
Thought you might be passing and catch him.” 

“Oh you horrid wretch!” shrieks Judy. “You shall pay for 
this!” She hurries out, comes back in a moment with a stick, 
and hits Punch a resounding blow on the head, continuing then 
to pound him. “I’ll teach you to drop my child out the window!” 

“Ow-wow,” howls Punch. “I’ll never do it again!” 

“I’ll teach you! I’ll teach you!” 

“Then I be teacher too!” cries Punch. He takes the stick from 
Judy and knocks her flat with a blow, then he goes on singing: 
“/ dreamt that I dwelt in marble halls, 

With vassals and serfs by my si-hi-hide. ’ 

In comes a policeman brandishing his club. 

“Hollo! Hollo! Hollo! Here I am!” cries the policeman. 

“Hollo! Hollo! Hollo!” answers Punch. “Here I am 
too!” and he whacks the policeman over the head! — 

“Do you see my club, sir,” shouts the policeman. 

“Do you feel my stick, sir,” answers Punch. 

“Take your nose out of my face, sir!” 

“Take your face out of my nose, sir!” 

“Pooh!” cries the policeman. 

“Pooh!” answers Punch. 

“You have committed a crime, sir,” says the policeman, “and 
I am come to take you up.” 

“And I am come to knock you down!” retorts Punch. Whack! 
he lays the policeman flat and goes on singing and dancing as 
before. Then he gets a great sheep bell and begins to shake it 
all about the stage. There enters a foreign servant dressed in 
outlandish livery. 

“Mr. Punch,” says the servant, “my master he say he no 
lika de noise.” 

Punch mimics him, “Your master he say he no lika de noise! 
What noise?” 


445 


MY BOOK HOUSE 

“Dat horrid, bad noise! He’ll no have more noise near his 
house!” 

“He won’t, won’t he?” and Punch runs about the stage shaking 
the bell as loud as before. 

“Get away I say wid dat horrid, bad bell,” says the servant. 

“Do you call that a bell,” says Punch, “it’s an organ!” 

“I say it is a bell, a horrid bad bell!” 

“I say it is an organ!” and Punch pounds him with it. “What 
you say it is now?” 

“Ow-wow! Stop! Stop! It is an organ!” cries the servant. 

“An organ? I say it is a fiddle!” Punch offers to pound him 
again. 

“It is a fiddle,” agrees the servant. 

“I say it is a drum,” yells Punch. 

“It is a drum,” agrees the servant. 

“I say it is a trumpet,” yells Punch. 

“Well, so it is a trumpet; but bell, organ, fiddle, drum or 
trumpet, my master he no lika de music.” 

“Not like my sweet music,” says Punch. “I’ll teach you to like 
sweet music!” and he pounds the servant about the stage with 
the bell till he runs away. Then comes in the distinguished 
foreign gentleman himself, who, being unable to express himself 
in English, says very solemnly, 

“Shallaballah!” 

“Why don’t you speak English?” asks Punch. 

“Shallaballah!” answers the foreign gentleman. 

“Then I’ll hit you with my stick,” says Punch. 

“Shallaballah!.” says the foreign gentleman. 

Punch hits him over the head and he falls to the ground. 
Then Punch sings as before: 

“I dreamt that I dwelt in marble halls 
With vassals and serfs by my si-hi-hide! ” 

446 


THROUGH FAIRY HALLS 



Suddenly the image of all Mr. Punch’s evil deeds in the form 
of a ghost peeps around a comer of the stage and whispers, 

“Booh!” then disappears again. 

Punch throws up his arms in alarm and says, “Ah, ah! I 
didn’t do anything! It wasn’t me!” 

At that, all the people whom Punch has laid out on the stage 
rise straight up in the air, point their fingers accusingly at him, 
and float away. 

“Oh dear! Oh dear!” cries Punch, “a horse! My Kingdom 
for a horse!” Suddenly his hobby horse comes prancing in. 
Punch tries to mount him in order to ran away but the horse 
rears up and throws him. 

“Oh dear! Oh dear!” moans Punch, from the ground and 
then in comes the Hangman. The Hangman says: 

“Mr. Punch, you are my prisoner! You have broken the 
laws of your country!” 


447 


fylcvvt 1 


MY BOOK HOUSE 

“Broken the laws?” whines Punch picking himself up. “I 
couldn’t break ’em. I never touched ’em!” 

“I have come to string you up,” says the Hangman. 

“Oh dear! Oh dear! Spare me! I’ve a wife and sixteen 
small children! What will they do without me?” 

Nevertheless the Hangman produces a rope with a noose at 
the end, and this he throws over the limb of a tree. 

“Come here!” says he. 

“I can’t,” wails Punch. “I’ve a bone in my leg!” 

“Then I must fetch you!” The two struggle and the Hang- 
man takes Punch over to the tree. 

“Put your head in here,” says the Hangman, showing the noose. 

“I don’t know how! Show me!” whines Punch. 

“Why it’s easy! Just like this,” says the Hangman. He 
puts his own head in the noose to show Punch how. Punch 
quickly pulls the rope and strings up the Hangman. “Oee! 
Oee!” he squeaks and begins to sing again. At that the ghost 
rises slowly. 

“You are come for,” he says in a hollow voice. 

“Oh dear! Oh dear! What for?” cries Punch. 

“To be carried off for your evil deeds, to the land of Bobbety 
Shooty.” 

The ghost approaches, still repeating in his hollow voice, 
“To be carried off for your evil deeds, to be carried off. To be 
carried off.” 

“That for my evil deeds,” cries Punch. He hits the ghost 
himself on the head and biff! that’s the end of the ghost. Then 
he jumps on his hobby horse and rides away, singing: 

“Right tol de rol, it serves him right. 

Now all my foes are put to flight, 

Ladies and gentlemen all, good night. 

To the freaks of Punch and Judy!’ 

448 

































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